Piled High.....

 

                             

Hi!

In a few hours from now, Summer 2025 will officially arrive!

Where I call home, we have earned the moniker, "The Land Of The Living Skies." When I say earned, I do mean earned. The clouds pile high, then spread into shapes that can, ever so briefly, make part of you believe in dragons, after which, the sunset kisses the edges, making it simultaneously more beautiful and more ominous. 

Our living skies can be generous with rains, bringing to fruition a green that could challenge the tones of the Emerald Isle, but they are also capable of spinning terror and destruction across our fields. 

Our skies are beautiful, endless, can shift in a heartbeat, and leave you utterly breathless. 

We try to navigate through both the beauty and the chaos with care, not taking either for granted.

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The intentional, nonsensical chaos that plagues those that inhabit the space south of the 49th, infects the entire planet. It's purposeful harm aimed deliberately at those who have the least chance of surviving it. The wannabe king isn't satisfied ripping away safety nets for his citizens, no, he has to stick his sweaty nose into places it need not be. Provoking, prodding, encouraging violence everywhere.

His joke of a birthday party was perfectly and entirely overshadowed by those who rebuke his hateful tyranny. Those ordered to participate, did so under obvious duress, thus phoning in a spectacular sloppiness that was thoroughly appreciated by all who witnessed it. 

This self-absorbed clown has claimed calls and deals that simply don't exist, he mumbles on about flag poles as he tries to set the world on fire. The rest of the world sees him for the Biff that his is, we are just waiting for those with the power to do so, to put him in the care home he needs so desperately. 

How long do the rest of us have to watch this exercise in self-destruction? Are you just going to let him go until there is nothing left to save? I find it hard to believe that there is nothing you can do. I find it even harder to believe that you lack the desire to do so. 

I mean, back in 2015 we thought it was a joke. Then...it wasn't.

At least, then, there were still a few guard rails in place.

Then, 2024 happened, and we thought, surely you wouldn't be dumb enough to let him have another go at dismantling what you've built. But here we are.

If you are waiting for midterms to fix this, I have a sneaking suspicion you'll be too late. There will be precious little to pull from the ashes at that point. As it is, world relationships have been rerouted, brilliant minds are being welcomed, given ample opportunity elsewhere. Your workforce is disappearing, industries are going under. Hell, your ability to predict deadly weather has been gutted to the point that seasoned meteorologists are pretty sure they won't be able to warn people in time.

Things are piled high, the dragon is evil, senile, dumb as a bag of rocks, and the edges don't look like they are going to soften in time for beauty to prevail. Just do something, for cryin' out loud. 

Okay... back to summer...

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May every sunrise bring adventure, joy, and laughter, enough to seep into the depths of your soul.

May every sunset help you relive the magical moments of the day, allowing you to let the hard stuff go.

May you get to take in some lazy days of summer, and not have them pass in a blink.

May you anchor yourself often, be in the minute, summers are numbered for us all, gone faster than you think. 

May you spend your luxuriously long days doing things that light you up, whatever that may be.

May your time and energy, life's most precious commodities, be used wisely, unfettered, set free. 

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