The Historian`s Struggle

I set about my studies as ardently as I can this day, as I do most days, opening another large dusty tome from the university library and filling page after page of my journal with notes, musings and analysis. Looking at me from the outside would show a young historian with a fresh degree and nearly unlimited energy to delve into the past and all of its stories. I have returned day after day, my work ethic remaining as strong as ever and, I imagine, impressing a few people with my dedication. A few of my fellows have even expressed some excitement to read whatever paper or thesis I come up with next and it would all be quite flattering, if not for one small thing....

I have realized how truly difficult it is to place myself mentally in the state of mind of figures from the past.

To empathize with their struggles and victories, their faith and their courage, their loss and their determination. Their hope.

Especially their hope.

I come in each day and sit on these hard wooden chairs, exacerbating the calluses from holding my pen as I take note after note and try my damndest to understand.

And fail, again and again.

I read about great atrocities commited by one race or country on another, true horror visited onto their fellow man and yet, the victors cheer in most cases. I scan over page after page of testimony on parents burying their children due to war, or disease, or famine, or simply poor healthcare at the time. I also read the hope many had for the future, that next year would be better than the last, that God or human ingenuity or some potent amalgmation of the two would lead to a brighter future. After all of this horror, this death and violence, these people still had optimism.

And they were right!

It just boggles the mind!

I grew up with an idyllic childhood. I didn`t lose any siblings as infants, or go without a meal, or have to work as a ten year old or march off to war at 15, or any of a hundred other difficult and, in my opinion, impossible things that many had to deal with growing up throughout the ages. So, how then, can I truly understand life as it was, when my life as it is seems so very far removed?

Yet here I am, another day amongst the stacks, another day of the struggle, of the immersion into that shadowy and beautiful and tumultous past of ours. I seek not just to record the past with the simple statement of fact, as my colleagues seem to in the current age of historical thought, but to understand and convey it in such a way as for others to as well. I wish to truly showcase the complexities and intricacies of the far flung past in a way people can truly feel it, in their very bones if I can manage it.

I drum my pen against the wooden desk, the gently tapping rythm accompanying my current subject, records of the religous uprising in Munster during the turmoil after Luther`s infamous 95 Theses. I have poured over the details of the causes of it, the people fighting for what they believed was the true way to worship, the true way to see God. And of course, I have read the utter horrors inflicted on many of them after their defenses fell and the local ruler took back control.

How can I reach into that distant moment and feel the exhilaration they felt at choosing their faith for themselves for the first time? Feel the horror as many starved during the seige? The terror and pain as many were outright killed or worse...

And then, I come across the most fascinating, and in my opinion, most moving story from this series of events: the story of a young girl of but 15.

She approached the city leadership during the siege with an audacious plan. She would wear a dress saturated in poison and defect to the ruler`s army camped outside, then attempt to seduce him and therefore, poison him to death. The leadership told her to go ahead with her plan and off she went.

To her death.

At 15, this poor girl sacrificed all for her faith.

At 15!

At 15, I barely had the courage to speak to the opposite sex, let alone attempt to save my life and my loved ones by seducing and killing someone!

I lean back in my chair with the creak of old wood and stare out a window and into the distance, my mind wandering throughout this story and puzzling over its every facet, its every emotion and detail.

I know not for how long I sit here, it was probably only a few minutes but it felt like hours. My mind worked in overdrive, looking for any inkling of inspiration, of a depth of understanding that I yet lack.

Frustrated once more, I gather my things and make my way outside, a stack of heavy books clutched under my arm for some at-home reading.

I push open the exit door and step out into the crisp autumn air, the scent of decaying leaves and potential heavy on the air when suddenly, I am struck from the side!

I fall over and dump my books onto the ground, skinning my palms as I catch myself on the pavement. I look over and see that I have been struck by a teenager on a skateboard, dressed in dark, edgy clothing and a backwards cap angled just so.

"Get a life, man!" the wayward youth spits at me in annoyance as he grabs his board and jumps back on it, heading off into the distance while he shakes his head at my apparent inattention.

I was attempting to gather my books when his words reach me and I freeze, inspiration striking in this most unlikely of moments.

"That`s it!" I shout to the now empty surrounding area, joy and exuberance infusing my voice.

I have my solution, I believe.

I would travel the world, go to the places my stories speak of, witness the less developed areas of the world, volunteer in Africa and South America, see the suffering that is still visited on many in this world. If I could not find the understanding in the past, I would need to gain it in the present and work my way backward!

Purpose renewed, I grab my books haphazardly and beat feet toward my car, intent on starting this next chapter of my studies, one step closer to fulfilling my goals, my dreams.

To help the world to better understand the past, the mistakes and the victories and all of the rest, so as to build a brighter future and not merely repeat the cycles of the past.

No matter how dark today may seem, we as humans, as thinking, feeling, caring beings, must reflect back to truly move forward into a lighter day tomorrow.

Or we shall be doomed to fall.