Wednesday, April 28, 2021

Monday, April 19, 2021

fact #72

it isn't true what they've said. it isn't true at all, thought they continue to say it. in fact, it's been said so often, it's become an obnoxious cliche and every time i hear someone actually push this phrase out of their mouth, as if it isn't a total lie or is even marginally helpful, it takes all i've got not to roll my eyes so hard i snap my own neck. 


"Whatever doesn't kill you, makes you stronger." 


even typing this insipid phrase makes me nauseous. i can attest to the fact that experiences which did not kill me, but which could have due to their severity or brutality or even just the slow, chipping away of the Self over time, did not make me stronger. these events might not have killed me, but they have undeniably resulted in an increased fragilty; my original strength having been spent and my resilience depleted. 


some things take much more courage, fortitude, or a higher tolerance for pain (physical or psychic) to survive than we like to admit. and, even if one does bounce back, it is often true that the pain of such an experience is so great that it creates a fundamental and lasting change. sometimes, this change is a the development of a fatal flaw, an achillie's heel, a site of weakness or instability which one did not previously possess. an event which results in the creation of such a weakness may not have been deadly the first time around but has an increased likelihood of being exactly that should there be a Round 2.

Tuesday, April 13, 2021

Familiar

There’s this little squirrel that runs back and forth across the powerlines outside my window. All day, back and forth. His tail, damaged, short and sparse. And I wonder if it’s due to the track he takes, an electrical event which has robbed him of his plume. But there he goes again, sure-footed along a dangerous line, a high-wire act that leaves me speechless. Why not abandon the familiar and take to the trees, little guy? The sting and singe he’s known somehow safer than reaching out for the nearby, unknown branch.