What do I know about any of it? Not much. I do know that it is real. I also know that we are regular people and that we are, in our way, artists. We are doing nothing wrong. We are communicating.
This has been in the works for such a long time. The trail is a billion miles long, but the map is written in a language we’ve forgotten.
I will choose hope over fear any day. We’ve not been well cared for, we are wounded in ways that cut to the core of our humanity. We have been denied dignity, honorable function, and tolerance. We have learned to live without life.
Time to wake up to the real world, folks. It is a beautiful place…full of secrets and puzzles, patterns and codes, light and shadow.
Open your eyes and look around. If it’s too much, look at something small. Study your child’s sleeping foot, the curve of petal or leaf, a stone small and still cracked.
Welcome to the world I live in. It’s a beautiful mess.
You can’t choose your story, but you can choose the way you play your part, you can shift the details around.
Don’t even try to forget this. You can’t.
I cannot explain precisely how. Thank you for participating in my story. Be nice:) I am just a person who is clumsily becoming. We are all clumsily becoming.