Challenge Excepted

It's funny how I can't write something good and honest and true just because I want to. There's something (or many things) holding me back, blocking my vision, restricting my thinking and censoring me.

I'm a rat in a cage and no one is watching. I got the collective unconscious burning holes in my back. What the fuck do you want from me? I wanna yell to my gods, society, civilization and people, but when I turn around they're all dead, slain in the poppy fields many mornings ago.

And now I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death with a little Afghan girl, also scared and alone. We are all refugees from the onslaught of life. Let's reach out our hands, link arms and lean on each other. We all need help to get through the desert.

I know I'm limited and flawed. I only have a few skills to bring to the table. I'm not an engineer; you'd never want to walk across my bridge. I'm not a plumber, a nurse, shopkeeper, accountant, security guard or bank manager. I have no idea how to do most things.

But I do know how to write and tell stories. I can write my way outta most boxes. I can skewer similes and roast them over a fire for you. To me, these are useful, practical, nourishing skills for society to engender and cherish. We need bridges across canyons in the gaps of our minds.

Which chasms haven't we bridged? How do multiple religions coexist peacefully? How do we balance progress with equality and empathy for our most vulnerable members? How do we meet the challenges of the present with the wisdom of the past in order to advance into a better future? How do we behave ourselves as a global community? How do we get along with AI? How do we change along with the climate?

These are very real challenges that I feel much better wrestling into a garbage bag, lugging down to the breakwater and throwing into the sea.