Rip The Curtains Down

I don't have any answers. You probably don't have any answers either. Honestly, I am not sure what the question is other than a gaping maw of sadness inside my ribcage. On days like today, this insatiable and jagged emptiness feels like it might swallow us all. What is there to do but throw ourselves into it, right? To stop feeling, to stop caring, to plug into the abyss and stumble around like we are inside a video game. Eat a burger. Buy a car. Shrug our shoulders. Whatever.

No, that can't be it. We must move through our sadness and confusion like smoke dissipates into the air. You can still smell it on your clothes, but it no longer makes you choke. There is work to be done. The light of day is near.

What will future generations say about us? Will they say we were the ones who realized that there is enough for everyone? That we put a stop to the suffering caused by the illusion of separateness and scarcity?

Let's help struggling parents at the grocery store. Let's donate blood. Let's play games. Let's share our food. Let's tell our representatives to regulate guns. Let's get clean water to every person. Let's agree to disagree and have a potluck together anyhow. Let's serve the needs of the community over self. Let's make our tables longer and our fences shorter. Let's grow some food in our yards. Let's acknowledge our privilege. Let's dig into deep conversations with strangers. Let's breathe before we yell. Let's let love be love be love. Let's treat every ounce of love and even the potentiality of love like the most precious metal available for trade. Then let's give it away for free and fuck the profit margin.

Let's remind the ones in the darkest attics of human despair that there is so much beauty to believe in. Let's rip the down curtains and let the day begin.