What is a “monster”, really? A figment of an overactive imagination, to be held at bay with a talisman of any faith/opinion/supposed sanctity, at our fingertips, or, a real and intruding danger to all that we hold dear?

THINK about it…

From birth, we are susceptible to every brand of fear our media can cook up for us, to imagine. To death, we are vulnerable to the pre-existing conditions that set up the human psyche for failure, in general. It’s a somewhat broad statement, but true, for most of us. Are you, for example, what you wanted to be, when you were grown up? Are you; dare I ask; even close?

I do, indeed, rest my case.

You see, in the innocence of childhood, a warm glow is all it takes, to soothe every fear and lingering doubt. Sometimes, this glow is accompanied by a magical blanket from a faraway land, or a soothing (pick a finger, any finger) thumb-sucking, eyelash rub, back-scratch, thumb-and-forefinger hair-twirling bit, or a Disney-type daydream, where all the animals talk to you and you understand them. Pick your poison. Regardless of your particular source, the comfort is all the same; and complete.



We’ve forgotten, or, left behind that perfect and simple sure foe every malady in our “Ascension” to adulthood. We forget that each day is its own, with all of the bad sucked out of it by some benevolent force of chance (in that, looking back, all we remember are the high points of our awful days). We live to dwell on the past, just as we die stuck on what we might have done, in the future. To enjoy ourselves, ever,we must heed the past, bear in mind, occasionally, the future, and stop to love the little intricacies and tiny intimate joys of a life we can’t fathom. Each day is a gift; a lesson; a tool, by which we measure the beauty of a life. Any, and usually not our own. We are, all of us, a part of the life/quilt/path who lead each other. When we walk by and discount the existence of strangers, the intimacies of the “extras”, we have also discounted ourselves.

We are, all of us, players. By this, I don’t mean to say that we are shitty actors in the movies we pump out today, but that we are the last and lonely players a Writer greater than Shakespeare, or Chaucer, or Dante (anyone, really) might ever have dreamed up. When we acknowledge and serve in the lives of others, we become the proverbial night-light, helping them through darkness to the breaking dawn, to safety and hope.