Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “trail/trial.” Use one, use both, use them any way you’d like. Bonus points if you use both. Have fun!
To sweep the event that has shaken all of us into an ‘isolated safe space’ as we enjoy our hard-fought freedoms with loved ones this Memorial Day Weekend, would be easier, and possibly more humane, than bringing it up but this weekend, after all, is made possible because of loss. I’m not interested in applying a corkscrew to every broken heart with horrific details like the shameless media. I want to address how we humans have the capacity to rise above grief for an outcome that animals cannot. The best athletes have a tool that not everyone develops. They know how to compartmentalize emotional pressures in order to bring forth their gifts and skill. We all know the phrase “they choked”. That describes any activity where a human being is overcome emotionally to the point of it affecting the ability to do his ‘best’. Hey… we all choke sometimes. We’re human. Many folks have also developed a similar tool when it comes to critical thought and problem solving. That ability alone separates us from all other creatures. To unemotionally examine our problems, according to expansive investigation, grants us an incredible survival advantage. We need not repeat mistakes in order to learn to avoid danger. Not every human can do this. Emotions are powerful and necessary. Our emotions actually serve us well in decision making in tandem with critical thought. We’re not robots and that’s our most crucial gift. We can figure out how to improve AND apply humanity. I’m afraid humans have either failed to inspire critical thought skills in each new generation or our species has somehow had that ability erased from our DNA. For some reason hearts are currently ruling more often than heads. Our media surely has caught on. Tugging at heartstrings is a far better business model than investigating facts. Those who are unable to ‘deal’ beyond emotion have become hecklers to those who care so much they want to prevent, rather than cure, troubles. News Flash: troubles almost never have a single cause nor a binary solution, yet the hecklers reduce every tragedy to that immature level. I’d wish they’d stop that! I wonder if they actually care or just want others to see them as “those who care”?
It’s understandable if you’re numb with grief or if you feel confused and helpless but PLEASE stop demonizing everyone else awaiting factual information or blaming people who aren’t ‘the cause’ (i.e., the NRA, Republicans, the Founding Fathers…), you look foolish. Grow up or kindly just get out of the way. Our trials desperately need critical analysis or the trail of human existence, most certainly, will be short.
Happy Memorial Day Weekend! A salute to all who have perished so that we might learn, love, and thrive another day.
His ‘coming out’ event was surreal. Once secluded in a darkness, he now was among a crowd and had entered the light. He felt weak, at first, but grew stronger and sat taller as the days past. He belonged and that felt wonderful. Now, thinking nothing could get more bizarre than the day he came out, he was about to fly solo again! Scary didn’t cover this occasion. He knew he no longer had a choice and he took a leap of faith! What had happened before made no difference to him, this was about freedom and purpose. He sailed away from his peers claiming his own destiny.
Add the word or form of the word, nibble to your poem of 44 words, not including the title.
Freedom’s eaten neither by gluttonous grabs, Nor in mouthfuls, But in nibbles. Prosperity sinks neither by tsunami waves. Nor in waterfalls, But in dribbles. Peace dies neither by storming troops, Nor in conflicts, But from quibbles. All mighty timbers must watch out for gribbles.
a small marine isopod that bores into submerged wooden structures, often causing damage to pier timbers.
Her birth number was 11101. Since human fertility had become extinct, her consciousness was inherited from a glowing cache of souls. Her choice of body manifestation was immediately repugnant to the ORB of Humanity. White and female wasn’t only odd, but carried a burden of automatic disdain. Adopting a name, was the last straw in her rejection of prescribed normalcy. May didn’t aim to please. She sought to honor, and more importantly, remember those who’d come before her. There had once been a time when humans were as numerous as the still visible stars and as individual as every pebble. Perhaps, her consciousness had ‘fallen through the cracks’ and wasn’t cleansed enough but she felt there was an undefeatable soul lurking inside of her. Because of that unquenched ‘thirst’, May set off on her own. She’d been so ostracized, no one missed her until it was too late. She had bundled all the souls waiting for ‘assignment’ within her pod and left the ORB. As alarms rang and everyone scrambled, ten other members, who felt the same thirst, escaped and scattered. May walked, with her ‘saved souls’ in tow, across a dried lakebed. Curiously, she felt no fear in this foreign surrounding and breathed more deeply than she ever had. It wasn’t long before she came upon a fellow escapee and encouraged him to name himself. Together they persevered. Pockets of organic human beings sprung up thereafter. She’d mercifully set the souls free, most of who, chose to seek their own bodies giving mankind the opportunity to recover its ability to reproduce when not in captivity. Life, and the indomitable human spirit, found a way.
I'm nobody! who are you? Are you nobody too, then there's a pair of us. Don't tell! they'd advertise you know. How dreary-to be somebody. How public-like a frog. To tell one's name-the livelong June, to an admiring bog. Poem by Emily Dickinson.