May there be a Gathering

We were told, these are the rules.  "They were established, and I know they don't make sense," we say, "but I am powerless to change them."  

There is a story that I like telling.  In this universe, it was discovered that time moves slower at higher altitudes.  Interested in saving minutes on their hours, the people all moved up to the mountains.  They began populating the highest peaks, thirsting after every gain they could accomplish.  Soon the mountains weren't enough.  The people started building houses on stilts.  They would climb up their long ladders and sit at home all day, relishing their minutes saved. 

Whenever anyone had to do business in the valley, they would rush down, terrified of time getting the best of them.  They would conduct whatever needed to be done and return home quickly, back to the safety of altitude.  

After several generations, the children still lived in these houses on stilts.  They were terrified of the low places.  And they had forgotten why they felt this way, why they did the things they did.  It was the way things had always been, unquestionable.

And as they were, so are we.  Caught supporting an ungainly machine built for purposes that are not our own, we acknowledge its destructiveness and insensitivity to legitimate human needs,  and continue feeding it.

What would remain if our support were to disperse?  What would happen if we took to the valleys?  If we saw our stilts from below, in all their silly posturing? Would it fall about us in ruin?  Would it remain a peaceful artifact to a listless and absurd past?  Would we finally understand what our parents had been running from?

Freedom is the possibility of an individual to realize their fullest potential.  Access to the resources necessary for facilitating growth.  And the capability to refuse participation in any activity that limits the freedom of others.

Because time is precious.  But only when given.  Only when shared with others.  Only when our actions meet the world's greatest needs do we find true joy and satisfaction.  And we can only give ourselves in this way when we answer another question:  What is the world?  

It is not an artifact.  It is not a web of rules and policies.  It is the living, breathing NOW that asks with enduring patience for us to listen to our hearts.  And when we know what we care about, we will know what needs to be done.