Pity parties, most of us have attended them, indeed a fair few of us have hosted them.
Not big brave or indeed constructive – but still we go…
2020 has been a bit of a rutty road, a byway in need of drastic resurfacing, not just for me, but for many others too.
Echo culture is a dangerous corrosive environment, when all you hear back are the comments you shout out, you can validate nothing.
Topography returned what I gave, and what I was giving wasn’t positive, was nowhere near being constructive – so it was no real surprise that it was all I heard echoing back to me!
Cabin fever had me, isolation removed the much-needed reaffirming validation that we all need, the corrosive insular cycle fed itself, devoured itself, almost destroyed itself and me with it.
A leather warped foot connects, and the scales fall from your eyes, you are no longer the trapped blind fool listening to the whispers and echoes of doubt.
You see, you see the beauty that you had for so long ignored.
Self-indulgence is a privilege of the living – and against the living is the debt from the dead to live.
So, missive over, have we made a point, articulated a clear theme?
I hope so.
Grip the shoulders, shake vigorously and then hug with all the love and passion that you possess.
Fall seven – stand eight!