It’s gray and rainy, I think, and likely to continue. At the moment I’ve feeling very “ugh,” and that, too, is likely to continue.
One of those mornings where my fingers poise over the keys and I will them to know what they should type. And now that you ask, no, that hasn’t actually ever worked.
More’s the pity.
We’ve had some time to let the awfulness seep in like the muck after a flood, and the only thing I can say I’m safely resolute about is not getting worked up. My own personal stress isn’t going to change anything.
It’s like we were building a tower of glistening crystal blocks, up and up, beautiful prism by beautiful prism. Mortared by ephemeral hopes and visions for a future that could scatter the light everywhere it touched.
Up and up we went, with bullies coming by now and then and pushing it over. Most of it held, but yes, up we’d go again, up an up, until we we were closing in on a magnificent spire, one tall enough to touch the clouds and finally, finally let us peek at what was beyond the heavy cover.
Well.
This time the bullies brought bulldozers.
It doesn’t matter that they didn’t have a permit and it doesn’t matter that they stole the equipment and it doesn’t matter that their greatest joy comes from smashing ours to empty shards.
It’s where we are, back to square one, an empty muddy field filled with broken glass.
So what now?
We make new bricks.
Now they may not be crystal this time around. Perhaps that was too transparent, too easy to read.
We may have to scramble to make them and to find them, but people scrambled before, some like actual superhumans whose brick gathering was too daring, too clever, too effective to emulate.
That’s OK.
What we need to do is reform a foundation. As a community and as individuals, and as individual communities. Those foundations, though spread, will later construct a base that will not topple so easily.
We are winded. It was devastating to watch that tower come down, shattering around us. It is devastating to see, truly, how fragile it all was.
So maybe this time we don’t have room for pretty. Maybe this time we’ll worry about scattering the light when we get there.
Maybe this time, we’ll wear hardhats.
Have a great Monday.
A Bit to Read 
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