Is it even still Monday? I think it’s still Monday. Whatever day it is, it’s a sunny one, though I thought we were going to have rain.
Maybe later.
I’m sure you’ll be shocked to learn I haven’t been sleeping well lately, I’ve had very vivid dreams that aren’t restful. It’s not like the world is disintegrating before us or anything.
(Pause).
(Pause).
(Pause).
Right now, I want to clear the muck from my soul, it’s like living in a mud pit these days, one with all kinds of sticks and stones and rotting bits. As I said on Friday, and asked of you too, I want to focus on the type of world I want to see.
The problem is balancing that with the type of world we’re in.
It’s got to be done, though, it’s either that or lose our humanity and that’s not something I’m signing up for.
That doesn’t mean I’m offering empathy or kindness to the people who dehumanize or villainize us, though. I think that’s another way to lose our humanity, voluntarily handing it over.
Also not something I’m signing up for.
I think we need to stop reacting to a narrative they get to define, they get to frame. Let’s create our own. Let’s tell our own stories, our own versions of things, completely disconnected from theirs.
The threats will increase, no doubt, for us to fall in line, for us to pretend we are sad for things we are not, for us to “like” them and “respect” them, but we don’t have to do that. We don’t even have to pretend to do that.
I think we start hosing off the muck when we remember the people we’re fighting for, when we raise our voices for the oppressed, for the harmed, for the likely to be harmed.
We will become nonstick, and it will all just wash away.
They don’t get to tell us what’s at stake or who matters.
We do.
They don’t get tell us what “polite discourse” is.
We can judge that for ourselves.
They don’t get to tell us we cannot speak.
We reject the filthy hand over our mouths.
Let’s go Monday! Have a great day.
A Bit to Read 
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