A Declaration of Creative Goodwill
In the face of rampant discord,
And preventable calamities,
It is time to do something different.
For our survival.
For the abundant possibilities born through harmony.
Because pain is universal.
Everybody has lived a story that scars.
Everybody struggles with loneliness and isolation.
We all want to be seen.
We all want to be heard and understood.
We all want to feel that our lives have meaning.
We all want to be loved.
But our scars can become points of connection.
And our demons can become rays of light.
Because nothing is a given.
Not our politics.
Not our entertainment.
Not our religions.
Not our attitudes.
We give power to them all.
We choose their influence.
Every moment provides a new opportunity to recreate our culture.
So it is time to stop pretending.
It is time to dissolve our false fronts.
It is time to listen to each other.
It is time to accept our differences and use them as raw materials for building something new.
No matter our individual beliefs.
No matter the names we have been called.
No matter the pain, resentment, fear, envy, or anger that wants to linger.
We will reimagine the power of our scars.
We will use them to recognize the humanity in others.
We will rise to the challenge of understanding.
We will listen for the needs that unite us.
Because, like Robert Frost said, “The only way around is through.”
The only way to free ourselves of destructive egomania is to open ourselves to creative empathy.
We can still play our own drums.
We can still dance in our own fashions.
But we can do so with respect, civility, and maybe even a common vision.
We can sing notes that contribute to a sound that is greater than the sum of its individual voices.
But, first, we must acknowledge one thing:
Harmony is scary.
But discord can be fatal.
Our choice comes down to cooperation or oblivion.
It is really that simple.
So we choose to walk toward the fire.
We choose to jump into the raging sea.
We seek amity with the monsters.
We seek goodwill with the thieves.
We begin within ourselves.
With the parasites that poison our humanity and cloud our perception.
We drag them into the light.
And we laugh at their absurdity.
We will flow toward anyone who has a story trapped behind a stubborn mask.
Because we are blood drifters.
The world is our family.
And we are no longer content to participate in a reality built of myopic competition.