Part 1: The Past

The Early Years

A slight rumble echoed throughout the aisles. The airplane turned ninety degrees. Looking straight down the runway, the engines transformed from a mild rumble to a loud wail to a high-pitched scream. The wings began to tremble. The aircraft bounced forward. Soon this machine was racing down the runway as if it was in competition with another airplane to be the first one down the runway. The sound of the engines was mathematical music. It put a spell on the passengers. Then the airplane broke the gravitational pull of the earth and headed for the sky. Takeoff was successful.

Inside the plane were all kinds of people: some rich, some poor, some white, some black, some educated, some ignorant. The flight attendants were attractive, and the pilots were handsome. People were generally good-natured and most of them were quiet.

There was one person that was particularly interesting. His name was Brian Storm. He sat upright in his seat in the first-class section. Wearing his business suit, he was perusing the daily investment news through his laptop computer. Many lucrative stocks had lost a significant portion of their value during the previous week, and people were worrying about their losses. Brian sat calmly in his seat because he anticipated this decline and sold certain stocks just hours before they began to tumble. Now he was preparing to buy those same stocks at super-low prices and hang onto them until they again reach their peak value.

He scrolled through the selling prices for key stocks and began to call his broker when he heard a mature yet youthful voice. He looked up and saw a flight attendant leaning over him asking a question. The flight attendant said, "Care for breakfast?"

"What do you have?" replied Brian.

"Cereal or eggs and toast. Which do you prefer?" said the flight attendant.

"Eggs, please," said Brian.

The flight attendant smiled and moved on. Within a few minutes, she returned with a tray containing warm food and fresh fruit. Brian closed his computer and prepared to eat.

The time was 7:30 am and the sun was shining through the windows of the airplane. The flight was smooth as the airplane flew majestically above the clouds. Everything was just right: the airplane ride, the food, the atmosphere, and the workings of Brian's mind and body.

Just at the moment when Brian felt that everything was right—as things should be—he realized something. Brian thought of a time in his youth when he experienced this feeling almost continuously. He remembered those days like they were yesterday.

When Brian was a toddler, his loving parents cared for him like he was the most valuable person in the world. They protected him from the harsh elements of nature. They made sure he was well fed, and they kept him clean, warm, safe, and comfortable. Everything he wanted was cheerfully given to him. He lacked nothing. In addition, he was regularly showered with gifts from family, relatives, and friends. In essence, Brian had everything he needed just when he needed it. Life was one continuous flow of joyful fulfillment, marred only by periodic moments of pain—when he could not have his way or when he got hurt.

Overall, those days—the days of Brian's youth—were great. He felt good inside and outside. He was a very cute, lively little boy. People regularly talked with him and most liked him. He was happy and life was good.

As a child, Brian excelled at many things. He was strong, fast, creative, artistic, and intelligent. In school, he always found the smartest children and competed with them in all areas of learning. He loved and excelled in math, spelling, creative story writing, and gym class.

Contrary to appearances, things did not come easy for Brian. Outsiders could easily make the mistake that everything went Brian's way when he was young. But that would be a superficial conclusion. Brian did get what he wanted. Yet he struggled very hard, he exerted tremendous effort to accomplish what he desired.

For instance, when Brian was six, he wanted to win a coloring contest involving many school children. He looked around and saw some kids who were visibly intent on winning the contest. They approached the project seriously. And some had real artistic talent. A few others goofed off, those who did not care. But Brian exerted as much effort as he could muster, drawing from all previous experiences he had with crayons and paper. When the time was up, he handed in his work along with everyone else. After the class judged the artwork, Brian was named winner of the contest.

He felt a sudden jolt of excitement and surge of joy. Then Brian realized that he won because he wanted to win and exerted the requisite effort. That nascent realization became his subconscious philosophy that would guide him through his pre-adult years.

As Brian grew, girls in his class began to seek his affection. The most attractive girls who were going through sexual development competed with each other for Brian's attention and affection. He was able to choose which girl he wanted as a steady girlfriend, which was a pleasurable experience. Life was good and right.

Then Brian looked around himself as a boy of eleven and noticed something very peculiar. He didn't draw any immediate conclusions; he would observe some more before coming to a conclusion. After repeated observations in different settings of children approximately his age, Brian had a startling realization. He never heard anyone talk about what he observed. But the truth of his realization was confirmed by looking at others, by observing what was happening.

Brian realized that most boys and girls near his age were not achieving the kind of results he was. They were not excelling in school, winning awards, getting the lovers of their dreams, or really having fun—intense fun that penetrates deep into one's soul. Why not? What was happening?

At first, Brian thought he was more talented or superior in certain areas compared to other people. But he looked at the whole picture of his life and rejected that notion. Other students were more attractive than he was. Some were better in math, science, English, and gym class. So why was everything going his way? Why did most other people not achieve high levels of success or experience natural joys almost daily—thrills arising from being in control of oneself and life?

The answer Brian discovered from observation and thought was that many of his peers had given up on life. That was a sad and lonely realization. It was sad because giving up on life is totally unnecessary and contradictory to living a fulfilling life. And it was lonely because Brian was one of only a few who had not given up on life. The most startling part of this realization was just how widespread and consistent this giving up on life was in children his age. It was like there was some unspoken Eleventh Commandment: When Thou Reaches Age Ten, Resign Oneself to Futility.

Most children had lost the flame of life, that glowing spark in their eyes, that will to strive for the best life has to offer, to reach for the stars and push themselves to their limit to reach stardom. Almost all those children resigned themselves to just getting by, to accepting things that require minimal effort. Consequently, few were happy—really excited to be alive. They would stare at those who achieved success and think, "So what? When is it time to go home?"

That saddened Brian deeply, especially because he did not understand why most kids gave up the struggle to succeed—to capture the best life has to offer. While growing up, however, Brian learned why.

There were a few kids—boys and girls—who never gave up on life. Brian noticed them and contrasted these kids with the rest. These striving children stood apart from the majority of kids who had given up. Those rare few were soaring into breathtaking accomplishments—astonishing teachers and students alike. The rest were just getting by, just passing time.

Opportunity and prospects for success were unbounded for Brian and the others who were still exerting effort to grow. Most young people were not consistently exerting high effort. So those who were could easily win and get what they want. This was like playing a game against an opponent that had fallen asleep. Or, it was like playing against a football team whose defense would collapse and let you run by with little resistance. The field of achievement was wide-open for those who consistently struggled to understand, to learn, to grow, to achieve. The doorway to success was unguarded. Or so it seemed…

Soon after realizing that most kids gave up on life and the field of achievement had little competition, Brian had an even more startling realization. When he looked at the children—his peers—he was aware that they had given up. But Brian turned his attention to the adults. And what he saw for the first time was truly horrifying.