I am the thing, looking at the thing, not knowing that I am the thing.

We’re born. We die. Some stuff happens in the middle.

What does it mean? What am I for?

It probably means nothing. I’ve seen more evidence against free will than for it.

So row, row, row, your boat.

I observe. I interpret. I attribute meaning.

I love this life, and I will miss it… Someday… Well, I won’t miss it at all, will I? I’ll be dead.

My life is a figment anyway. I’m a chimera that believes itself solid. I perceive myself distinct, but I is an illusion of the illusion. I am not an illusion, but I am not fully realized either. Part of it all and separate from it all. To live is to perceive, and to perceive it to have perspective.

I contradict myself as I describe because paradox is the framework of the universe. The illusion would collapse under the weight of consistency.

I am the thing, looking at the thing, not knowing that I am the thing.

The universe discriminates. The laws of physics are proof.

Biology discriminates. Evolution is proof.

As subjects of biology and physics we too unavoidably discriminate.

As creatures of agency, we may discriminate in accordance with our values.

May we assess our values with care.

If you say people should be free to do what they want, then it is hypocritical to tell other people they’re using their freedom wrong.

Freedom in social animals is always limited by the impact of individual freedom on others in the society.

If our goal it to maximize individual freedom, then we must more effectively distinguish between which individual actions are a bonafide detriment to the well being of others.

It’s ok if your flag offends me. I want the freedom to fly a flag that offends you too. When mobs gather behind either of our flags I fear for our freedom.

My weird and offensive freedom relies on your weird and offensive freedom even though our weird and offensive freedoms are antithetical to one another.

I need free queers, nazis, polygamists, religious wackos, arm chair revolutionaries, unionists, anarchists, traditionalists, and the rest, because as long as their freedoms are in bounds so are mine.

It’s the circular firing squad, of pluralistic democracy, that keeps us all from pulling the trigger.

…Please, nobody pull the trigger.

To you, who are farther down the path than I. I see your beauty.

I see your soul growing larger, kinder, more encompassing, more accepting. Your flesh wilts at its brilliance.

Strange and sad, to live in a time when, for so many, flesh has become the primary focus.

I aspire to shed my mortal cocoon with the grace I see in you.

I hope to emerge more beautiful than I am.

My life means everything to me, so I try as hard as I am able every day. And sometimes I fret.

My life means nothing to the universe, and I am of the universe. So I know I need not worry.

I endeavor to maintain this awareness so as not to be paralyzed by the weight of my self-imposed meaning.

The world must eat itself to grow. Life insists on growth. Growth feeds on death.

Everything will be consumed. As a sentient, I have some influence over the cruelty involved in the process of consumption.

The heel departs the ring. His role is not played out. He departs with a sneer, not a roar. His deflation inflates the suspense. He lives on, an unrepentant foe. Waiting for his chance. He will return.

The crowd howls for their hero. Awake and enraged by the spectacle they have witnessed. The hero’s victory is theirs. Their cheers are self-congratulatory.

This is the cycle of the theater. Perennially, the crowd, godlike, demands the sacrifice of a heel.

The hero exists for the crowd. The crowd exists for the hero. Neither come together without the drama of the heel. The heel is the catalyst. The heel is the motivation. Without the heel, nothing happens.

“I have a system to manage my OCD.”

I send out my agnostic prayers – messages in a bottle – begging for help – from whom I know not.

I hear people say that children are in decline and the solution is “structure”. “Structure” is the only word they always use.

I question that children are in decline. Most of the ones I’ve met, beyond developmentally appropriate perspective deficit moments, are a pleasure to be around when they are treated with dignity and kindness.

I don’t question the value of “structure”, but I do question what people mean when they say it. It seems to me that, before I put up a trellis, I ought to have an idea of what shape I want to grow the plant. Often, when people say “structure”, I think they mean rigorous time management and behavioral control by authority figures. I think this makes sense if I want to rear soldiers to stand in line and shoot across fields at one another, or stand on a line performing repetitive tasks, but if I prefer kind, flexible, thoughtful, moderate, assertive, loving children, it seems an odd approach.

It has been my observation that we become that to which we are initiated.

What sort of world do I believe I am initiating my child into?