“Time to get off my ass again…”

I am sitting on a rock in the forest when a stranger approaches:

“Imagine that you are here and that I’m here

and that we can do anything that we can dream of,” she starts.

Elaborating,

she starts to check off a list of being that floats conveniently to the fore,

like a powerpoint in the sky:

“In dreaming or in waking:

I am not currently a refugee,

nor am I currently bound by famine with very few options – check.”

I am not currently detained against my will – check;

I am not currently homeless, though this may be a deficit as relates my degree of comfort – check;

I have my speaking voice and can communicate with others [this may be a deficit too] –

even in languages I don’t know, with google translate – check;

I have been educated, able to think critically and to solve problems creatively;

I have my limbs and they work;

I am not terminally ill (well I am, yet seem currently to be in good health);

I am crippled by past trauma yet have the ability, will and resources to heal these wounds –  check.”

She stops and looks at me with an earnestness that could spontaneously cure a hardened alcoholic of denial:
“Now fuck off and start being grateful for everything you have and start using what you have been given to create change in the world.”

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