Looming before us, a destitute Tomorrow proliferates uncertainty. We stand in awe, jaws agape, watching, waiting for the mighty beast to either succumb to our will or obliterate it. Like chicks in their eggs, we stand shrouded by darkness with our food supply running thin, dreading what may lie outside. The shadows cast upon our shells, distorted and ominous, make us shudder and wrinkle our skin. While we hide in our protective isolation, the will to survive runs further and further away as our nutrients dry. “We cannot leave our shells, for it may be futile to do so, seeing as we have no guarantee to the contrary” – we pronounce, flapping our fledgling wings. Hasn’t the time come to shed our protective barriers isolating us from conflict and insecurity, when all that waits for us here is a slow, agonizing death?
The Ancient philosophers told us that we are chained staring forward, watching puppet masters proclaim the truth with synthetic light and obscure shadows. They told us that we are bound to our cave unless pulled out by wiser, more just men, who may show us the divine light from which true knowledge can be obtained. We’ve laughed at these men, proclaiming ourselves to be Gods – creators of our own realities. And yet, we cower behind our shells, waiting for God to come along and clear out all that is evil before we are so comfortable as to expose ourselves to the light.
We are not bound by chains to our shell. We are not tied to a chair facing only one direction. We have no external force to blame for our condition, neither chains nor twine.
Is our situation not far more severe, when we realize that we can escape, and we avoid it for comforts sake?
As our neighbors pick open their shells and peek into the external world, such horrors fill their sights that they run back, frantically trying to piece together their armor. But the moment we escape our shells, there is no turning away from the horrors of reality, for we outgrow our protective bubbles. Our young, brave leaders, exhilarated and frightened by our plight, run about independently, trying to overthrow the older forces that be, only to either be turned by the darkness which therein lays, or to be decapitated (just above the vocal chords) and sent back to the nest to spread a warning to potential hatchlings.
These once-brave souls preceding us, they come back to roost with one dying breath, with which they tell us to stay in our shells. “The world outside is too horrible, too disgusting, dirty, and dangerous! Never come out! If I could bring no change, neither can you!” they scream before they hit the ground, necks spurting blood, soaking into our semipermeable shells.
A new day stands before us! Rather than wait in vain for the world to change via the powerful external powers at large—rather than wait and starve as the resources necessary to our survival deplete within our shells—rather than running off as independent heroes to defeat the darkness outside single handedly—rather than waiting for the termination of our relevance, shall we not crack open our shells with our bare hands and breathe in the cool damp air of our fallen brothers and sisters?
If our brothers and sisters fell independently, ought we not to organize?
If our shell is a sham, a veil of security rather than true armor, shouldn’t we tear it off and seek to establish security with the force of Law?
Let us abandon our intrepid, exclusive commitment to our individual selves, our personal glory and ambitions! Let us—in celebration of our diverse backgrounds, ethnicities, epistemologies, viewpoints, and ideologies—instead embrace community and passionate resistance to the impending storm. For whom among us stands a chance alone against an uncertain tomorrow, bolstered by layers of organized institutions? Haven’t we seen our families killed, our brothers taken and corrupted by the darkness outside, for that very reason? Who alone has brought light to a dark world? Wasn’t it organizations that forced the law to recognize our equality regardless of race, or was it Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., all alone?
Rather than wait for the darkness to consume or kill us, let us breathe passion into this world, and set aflame the institutions blocking out the sun! Need Tomorrow be a dark uncertain terror? Together, can we not dismantle our shells and take on the Fox killing our mothers? Surely not alone.
Today, with our enthusiasm and organization, can’t we plan our attack on the ills that plague society? With our birth, can’t the world be reborn? For today is the day we welcome the birth of the Geopoliticus Child.
Geopoliticus Child,
The Fourteenth Day of June in the Year Two-Thousand-Eleven
On The Fourteenth Day of June in the Year Two-Thousand-Eleven
