The Project

The Project, for project's sake, is long. I've been pondering this morning's post, what to write, like a reverse, anticipatory dream journal. I think of the people to whom I've sent invitations to author, while I wait for someone to show up to my party, or I sit as some aged monk keeping watch over long forgotten texts, or maybe some hunter stalking prey, intellectually. It's a story, no doubt. I like the idea of writing my own story, the story of me. I like the idea of the story of us. I like the idea of a small fire on the border of the settlement, or the watchmen at the edge of the encampment. I like the ideas. 

I respect the simplicity.  I've made some decisions about the structure of sharing. I like the smaller text, the necessary gaze and focus to engage. I like the honesty of foibles, the humor of our lives in punch lines of mistakes and flaws. There's a cosmic mist in the air, Aurora Borealis down to surround human heads, illuminating the crown. Here, away from the Regent's tent, on the periphery of The Horde, there is energy in peace. 

I hate the false choices always proffered as if facts of nature. Be the influenced, or the influencer. Be the wolf or the sheep. Be the lover or the fighter. The worst kind of false choices are those imposed, by others, by entities with agendas, by PR campaigns still selling the same. I hate false choices. The world is full of choices, myriad choices, or a myriad of choices. They're everywhere. 

I am saddened by the current, social limited breadth of attention. The world is consuming mental bonbons and intellectual petit fours. For now, for hope, let's consider it appetizers.  Or maybe small, sliced chum bait for lost souls.