Amy Tan’s video interested me in more ways than just her definition of creativity and her theory behind the creative process. What she said about her mother also intrigued me. She spoke of how her mother did not believe in randomness. Her mother had a strong faith that everything had an explanation and refused to acknowledge the possibility of something occurring simply out of randomness.
This is an interesting concept to me that I suppose I haven’t really thought that much about. In some cases, I believe that things do happen for a reason, but for other things there cannot possibly be an explanation. For example, I believe in karma. I think that if something horrible happens to someone after they have done something horrible to someone else, then their own horrible act instigated the thing that happened to them. In this type of situation, and of course in others, the event happened for a reason. On the other hand, certain things merely happen because they happen, such as unexplained illnesses, as mentioned by Amy Tan.
For my creative act, however, I wish to focus more on the concept of randomness. Random things are unexplained, erratic, and merely happen by chance. Is this possible? Can things really be simply random? As I pondered over these questions, and tried to think of things that were random, I found myself finding explanations for every example I came up with. It seems to me that it is difficult for something to happen out of randomness.
To attempt to create something out of randomness, I decided to use every fourth letter of the alphabet. I then opened a dictionary at random and chose the third word on the page. From these words, I have written a story.
These are the words that came up:
1. cable
2. fabulous
3. idiosyncrasy
4. lacerate
5. offense
6. ringmaster
7. unbearable
8. xenophobia
The ringmaster snapped his whip, lacerating the lion’s back. Its skin broke open and blood dripped down its side, staining its tawny coat. The lion roared in pain, shaking its fabulous mane. The ringmaster laughed and turned to the crowd. He tipped his hat and bowed. The audience was silent, taking offense at the man’s brutality. His embarrassment unbearable, the ringmaster hastily announced the next act.
The tightrope walkers prepared themselves, high above the ring. They had no net, nothing to stop them from plummeting to their deaths. The three were from France and the ringmaster had terrible xenophobia, and therefore would not allow a net. The youngest of the three approached the taught cable first. It was one of his idiosyncrasies, always needing to be the first on the rope. The others never complained, especially not in this circus. Although they would never say it, they were terrified of the chance of falling now that they did not have the safety of a net. If the first of them were to fall, then the circus would not continue. They would never have to put themselves in the position of falling at all.
The youngest took his first tentative step out onto the rope. It didn’t take long for him to realize that someone had tampered with the rope. It was not tight enough. It would not support him. With his first step he sent himself plunging downward, the faces of his comrades twisting in horror. The audience held its breath, no one made a sound.
The youngest tightrope walker smashed into the ground in the centre of the ring, his mangled body an indiscernible mess. No one moved. All was silent. And then, from behind the scenes, came the excruciating sound of the ringmaster’s cackle.
