Saturday, August 9, 2014

We, the Visitors

I don't live in this world. I only visit here. And I'm sure many of you are the same. Our lands are Narnia, Hogwarts, The Enterprise, and even a castle in Scotland owned by a 16th century laird. But we all live in that other world called Story, that other world people of this world refer to as fiction. But to us, that other world is home. And here, we are only visiting. This is not where we live.

People of this world don't understand why we keep coming back to that world. Some of them scoff when they see us going around with our little portals. Some of them think highly of us and think we're educated when we go around with our portals. Books, they call them. But others think we're being reclusive and anti-social, when these tools, made from the trunks of trees and enchanted by words and ink, are really just keys back to our world, our home, where we take refuge. We may live in different lands. Some of us live with witches and wizards in a world full of magic. Others live in kingdoms where they serve a hero, a king they are loyal to. And others live in ranches in the new world with a kind man they take care of. But we all live in that world that is just and honorable, where the lines of good and evil are clearer. It is a world that is fair, where dreams come true and each character matters, where friendship lasts and adventure is present and chivalry is alive and love conquers all. It is a world that is, at heart, true. And that is why we call it home. That is why we keep coming back.

Bear with us, people of this world, when it seems like this world overwhelms us. During those times, you may find us frequently poring through our bookly portals in an attempt to escape, to go home. We cannot help but compare. And we know it's unfair of us to compare your world to ours when your world brings its own good things, like how emotions seem to be stronger here. Forgive us when we compare your men to ours. We are still learning to understand how much more painful the breaking of a heart is here in your world than it is in ours. We are only beginning to understand how betrayals and broken hearts in your world call demons you have to fight on your own, all the while nursing that broken heart of yours. Forgive us when we compare your women to ours, how your women are too strong, they're no longer sweet, and how they seem to have become socially male. We're only beginning to understand how much more complex these human relationships you have to decipher and deal with are. And deal with them, you do, all the while worrying about bills and payroll and rents, which we don't really think about much in our world.

Forgive us for being slow to understand, but also bear with us when we cry and retreat into our world, our just and honorable world, where we are so much more protected than you are in yours. Forgive us and know that we will always come back. For we are duty-bound to bring the true heart of our world into this, into this world that sorely lacks it. We are duty-bound to use the power of our world, stories, to show people that friendship can last, and that adventure can be found, and that true love does exist. We are here to be what our world is: just, honorable, and true. But bear with us for we, too, are mortals. We, too, are corruptible. We, too, falter. We, too, get disheartened. Just like you, we, too, can forget who we are. But we are here, among you, to love and be loved, and to make this world of yours, this world we visit, a good place to be in for all of us.

Yours in love and story,

The Visitors