Nothing is as important as these words. There’s weight here. We carry it. They shove it aside. Give it to us. But we run with it. Lovingly. We want this burden of life. Existence. We took the challenge. We’re here to see it through. The end is our choosing. We’re writing it now. If you don’t believe it, you will.
Nothing dark about it. The stories are sad, but they are not. Reality is tough. It isn’t what’s on the surface. It’s deep below. Guiding us. Teaching us to fear not. Fear nothing. To learn to swim, to dive, to rise, to float, to fly. Glide. That’s what we’re doing. Facing it. Pushing it. Fighting it. We cannot be stopped. Even when we’re slowed, we’re at it harder and more thoughtfully than the others. Wind up all the toys you want, all they do is make noise and distract us from the real work that needs to be done—honing the senses, strengthening the spirit.
Nonsense like this can be easily explained away. It’s dreary today. All gray. Drizzle. Trees weep. Birds are silenced. Invisible fingers tap the windows. Ghosts are poking me. They know I’ve been thinking thoughts that have no real bearing on where it is we need to be. So, they’ve been at it, prodding me, waking me—a little at a time—so that it’s not a shock. They know by now that’s unnecessary. It doesn’t work. The small signs are what catch the attention of those devoted to making meaning.
So, let’s put on our Thursday best. Pretend. Do all those things that make sense to so many. But let’s not forget why we’re here. This work. These words. This weight only we know how to carry.
~ KJ
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