To Tom and his druidic wisdom
Maybe our only certainty is otherness.
“My threshold is also yours,” I could easily say. The loss of innocence should never be a downfall, but only an acknowledgement honest enough to let us learn an even newer, brighter, wider innocence —that will someday be lost again, like the layers of the sweet onion that is forever taking root.
Your uniqueness is your ability to mirror others and let yourself be mirrored. “I’ll help you build your pagan temple of song,” I could easily say. But Home can be frightening too — we try to understand the pattern, and sometimes we fail in a beautiful way: symbols on our path that laugh out loud when we innocently try to tell our own story through them.
Sing the blues, and sing it deeply.
So yes, we can speak with a serious voice and in a solemn manner, we can even pretend to be so good at it that it can become a shield, but fear not: behind it lays only a wholesome, vulnerable innocence, an innocence I now know can never be lost, only, perhaps, misplaced — and it will make its own journey and find its way back to your ancestral embrace.
So smile at the flames of your inner clay candle, tear up all of your notebooks and dance