Douglas Preston/Lincoln Child

A search for an honest review of work by this dynamic duo or either author returned nothing but promotional fluff, probably written or rewritten by Preston himself. In fact, rumor has it that he has commandeered this post as well. I would venture that he has also infiltrated Lincoln Child or perhaps merely recreated him as well.
"Help! Save us! We have become characters in a Douglas Preston multi-verse!"
A second opinion was desired after finding their work to be somewhat incredulous AND silly AND copious AND compelling enough to shamefully seek out "the next in series" after a close encounter with an audacious cliffhanger in Brimstone. (I do admire how it flip-flopped into and out of the supernatural.)
The Pendergast series is a bag of potato chips that the the reader may find themselves shamefully plowing through like a wood chipper. There must be some explanation for this horrifying magnetism! One can't witness a disaster with no inclination of aiding the victims without questioning one's humanity or very existence.
I can hear Mr. Preston snickering at my lack of literary prowess, while he flexes the prolific muscles of his forehead forged in the fires of word-smith-dom. He laughs manically as he enters his master password to all that he surveys, and thoughtfully edits every word relevant to himself, his work and his collaborations, suitable to his whim like a crudely fashioned lasagna Neapolitan.

Coming out of the woods

When identifying supernatural creatures in your day-to-day existence, it's only fair to identify your own as well.

It took six years to ID my boss. Identification was progressive and exponential.

Before the search, peculiar behaviors beckoned. It became necessary to scutinze these to learn their lexicon, and categorize them into some organizing principle, an archetype. 

Psychology is an excellent resource; albeit a mere launching pad. Mythology helped pare down the data into a single, all encompassing concept.

It would have taken a lot longer without the Internet and Netflix, perhaps 40 years. Think Bob Cratchit hunched achingly over the ledgers, chilled to the bone, nose running persistently, longing for a "good day to you, sir" like a dog waiting for a table scrap.

Mr. Cratchit might have escaped such an ascetic existence sooner if he had had Google and a better healthcare option for his son. But then, he would have left before the fat lady sang; before Scrooge found redemption, which permitted Cratchit to continue his excellent attitude of humble servitude, instead of becoming warped by grief and bitterness into a monster himself.

Monster comes from the Latin term "monstrum," a portent or sign, similar to "montrer," French, to show. So, seeking signs to interpret the portent, I spied, at first, an overly zealous ego. She would actually clap for herself and exclaim gleefully, "Yay, me!" with completion of a seemingly mundane task. Then, the atypical egoist evolved into a narcissist that turned into a dark triad of personality traits, and, finally, a Wendigo.

Imagine my surprise with the realization that I had been coexisting with an insatiable cannibal (not of flesh, but a hunter and consumer of human spirit). Unfortunately, my little field trip took a u-turn, flat out spoiling my delusional scenarios of victim hood.

How I was able to survive for so long in proximity to such a formidable beast? I must either be soulless myself and/or be in possession of supernatural attributes as well.

I had been performing a simultaneous search for suitable symbiotes in this context. "If this is you, what does that make me?"

A reverse narcissist, Echo to Narcissus; co-dependent; sycophant; weeping Myrtle, a ghost, a poltergeist, a ... La Llorona, the weeping woman who drowned her children (dreams) to spite her philandering husband, doomed to forever seek her sacrificial lambs? Not pretty or even close to any imagined end game.

So I must work to emerge from this cocoon, which means altering and or, more likely, terminating its context, my personal dynamic with a Wendigo.

Von Trapp, Inc.

"Nothing comes from nothing
Nothing ever could
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must've done something good."

My mother sang these lines to explain the honor of having shared most of her life with my father, who passed away in June.

I relate it to work, because I'm a drone born accidentally in human form. I could blame it on the TV, which rotted my brain. (Yes dad, TV bad.)

"The Sound of Music" and "The Wizard of Oz" more closely resemble the job search process. After all, who has the opportunity to join a "family" as an outsider? Orphans, nuns and foster kids? For most everyone else, that symbolic family would be a company, corporation or bureaucracy.

Maria applied to teach and lead seven underlings, while evading the Nazis; and Dorothy, to take charge of three lost souls and save all of Munchkinland from the Wicked Witch of the West. However, Maria and Dorothy actually finding home is a different story entirely.

Granted, I've had to curb my enthusiasm for identifying surrogate parents, siblings and friends at work due to my confusion. This destroys any work/life balance and is a serious mistake, as is treating the workplace as your personal living space.

It seems only natural to let it all hang out eventually, to be accepted completely by default. But, this is ill advised, even on the home front.

There's just not that much space for us in other people's lives, much like the Twitterverse with only 140 characters to communicate one's character. It's important to choose and edit carefully before hitting the send button.

Once you are placed in a box that you've helped design, it's difficult, if not impossible, to escape. It requires new territory, geography and population, and a different approach. The problem is... wherever you go, there you are.

So, do something good; even if it means diluting your personality. This is called Prudence. It's on the A-list of virtues.  Don't confuse it with the cliché of being a prude, which is unpopular with horny teenage boys.

Reap what you sow. Do so mindfully when an invitation presents itself. Not having an answer is better than throwing something at the wall and seeing if it sticks. Don't be the student that shouts out wrong answers in the lecture hall. Be patient. All good things come to those who wait, which gives you a chance to find your heart's desire and prepare for it.

"Better to be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt."

Homework for the Heart

It’s truly next to impossible to watch those you love suffer. Although the prime directive of intergalactic travel is noninterference, it takes a far greater being to implement it; one with information beyond the reach of mere mortals.

Our interference, although well intentioned, deprives another of the opportunity to expand the territory of the heart. We may reveal our own discoveries as often as we like. However, this indulgence may only serve to delay another's journey. What seems like a merciful intervention is perhaps an extension of turmoil. Ironically, people will tend to be grateful for mercy and deny the consequences of it. Good, bad or indifferent, change comes in its own time.

Life on Earth is an advanced course that includes interaction with others. The course catalogue tends to be nonlinear. We cannot master a relationship with ourselves without others. One lifetime is inadequate for beings who undergo continual metamorphoses. We have one brain throughout all the changes and challenges, and minimal intervention to adapt it.

Caring for others at the expense of self leads to the temptation of not caring for and/or working on self.

A perfect model of self-sacrifice existed once upon a time. His character and actions are not easy to understand. We vaguely remember to feel guilty and unworthy. That was not the lesson. 

Here is an attempt to understand it:

The symbolic act is the sacrifice of the ego; not to gain love, but to give it, unconditionally and unilaterally.

Since that time, we have carefully avoided the acceptance and impersonation of this gift in order to protect our hearts from breaking and our egos from being lost. Ironically, we cannot be rid of the ego. It keeps bouncing back like a rubber ball. And we cannot begin to imagine the true capacity of our hearts once the portal is opened by removing the delusion of the ego. Our hearts are a channel for love. But in the meanwhile, in the shadow of ego, we damage our beliefs and our perceptions until our souls become tortured in a hell of our own creation.

Mysteriously we often find our best selves by giving ourselves away. However, it's better to do this for the right reasons and motivation, and when we have a positive reservoir from which to give.

“Give, give, give. We must give. Don’t be selfish. Be selfless,” is only a partial message, which, on its own, can harm the recipient as well as the donor.

So fortify yourself. Do the work. And give when ready.

Giving when you are empty or from darkness contributes to the soul sickness of the world, the health of which begins with you.

If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And if I am only for myself, who am I? If not now, then when? - Hillel

Homework of Self:

• Try 6 Steps to See Yourself More Clearly by Martha Beck, Oprah.com
• Read "Advice to Myself" by Louise Erdrich, The Writer's Almanac, May 29, 2007, "Pursue the authentic—decide first what is authentic, then go after it with all your heart. Your heart, that place you don't even think of cleaning out."

A Poem by Kalidasa

Look to this day:
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence.
The bliss of growth,
The glory of action,
The splendour of achievement
Are but experiences of time.

For yesterday is but a dream
And tomorrow is only a vision;
And today well-lived, makes
Yesterday a dream of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well therefore to this day;
Such is the salutation to the ever-new dawn!

- Kalidasa (Sanskrit dramatist, India, 353-420 A.D.)

"Virtually no facts are known about his life, although colourful legends abound. Physically handsome, he was supposed to have been a very dull child, and grew up quite uneducated. Through the match-making efforts of a scheming minister he was married to a princess who was ashamed of his ignorance and coarseness. Kalidasa (Kali's slave), an ardent worshipper of Kali, called upon his goddess to help him, and was rewarded with sudden gifts of wit and sense. He became the most brilliant of the 'nine gems' at the court of Vikramaditya of Ujjain."

- OldPoetry.com