I grew up small and quiet watching everyone around me, as the youngest does. I was drawn to the truth tellers and the ones that talked about everything but what's in your face. I'd listen as those older than I spoke of governmental corruption. The ones who spoke out drew me in with that power and those guts.
I was influenced by these people and their desire to know what wasn't being told. That bravery was building inside of me then, but not ready for release quite yet. I think this is where some of my depressive ruminating was amplified--dry kindling on fire.
Now those people have hung up their megaphones, tempered their rage, and complied. If they still see the envelopes, they no longer push them. It's weird to watch these changes. Just when things are becoming more visible, they've retired their voice.
And so I turn away from those I learned from. Nods and gratitude for showing me the way. I'll take that baton while you rest . . . .
. . . . and I'll pass it to my new group of gutsy truth tellers with megaphones and fresh batteries.
Waves waves waves crashing into our existential understanding.
Why do we exist here? Why now?
One concern crashes into another concern. We see them, we voice them, we think of ways to affect them.
Have you seen water on rock over time?
Keep your eyes on that shine.
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