We see them: leering at us from billboards, television screens, store fronts. And come the end of the month, they’ll saunter down our streets, terrifying to behold, demanding sugar. Frankensteins with pea-green skin, vampires with dead white complexions, zombies losing whatever skin and skin tone they once had. Monsters, all. Right?

I just reread T.J. Klune’s, The House in the Cerulean Sea (I hope you’ll treat yourself to a read and possibly a reread. Bring tissues.) The story features a monstrous-looking creature whose greatest hope is to serve others. The greatest hope of people in the story who look “normal” is to serve themselves at the expense of others. So, what makes a monster? Appearance or attitudes and actions?

Is the pea-green guy with neck bolts the monster, or is the monster the scientist who forced life into vulnerable tissue, and then refused that life community and companionship? What of the Count on Sesame Street, who teaches children their numbers? Also, the zombie R, in the film Warm Bodies, yearns more for love than for a brain-tissue snack.

So, what makes a monster? The question has been debated for centuries. Is a monster that which looks like “other”: one that shocks and horrifies on sight? Does a being’s appearance make that being a monster?

Is a monster that which acts in self-interest and without compassion? Does a single monstrous act make a monster, or is it a pattern of choiced actions? Is one who destroys, regardless of appearance, monstrous? What of one who benefits if we fear one another: who goads us to see difference as threat?

That’s a lot of questions without easy answers. Yet, a wise man once challenged us to love our neighbors as ourselves: not more than ourselves, and not less than. In curbing monstrosity, it seems like a good place to start. What are your thoughts and feelings on the topic of monsters? What, for you, is monstrous? We would love to hear from you. Share your Soul & Solace thoughts at contact@aspaciousplace.com.