Ever so routinely often, the guardrails of Security Guards, militarized police, and soldiers become defenders of our liberty, such that their presence, rather than be repugnant to us, are instead viewed and reflected as manna from heaven and guarantors of our unsecured lives.
Our gratitude for this liberation, less we be reluctant or hesitant to recognize our salvation, can always be dutifully secured by threatening to remove the guardrails so that we can contemplate our enviable good fortune or descend into chaos and anarchy without them.
Consider this preposterous if you will, that fervent Christians can be pressed into armed service to defend the gates of heaven even as they are sweating profusely and being made nauseous and uncomfortable by the heat of the moments. Is it too much to ask ourselves if the things we defend and the resulting compromise of our restrictive guardrails and safeguards are worthwhile?
In some people’s minds and not without cause, a living mongrel is better than a dead lion. We call this the wisdom of experience, and there is this gem, “Experience teaches’ wisdom”. So, what then is our dilemma in arriving at a place we have never been? We are at the crossroads of our existence and the familiar is our recourse, not because it is the only choice but because we are firmly the creatures of yesterday’s experience and our frightening dilemma is the unwelcome intrusion that today, more so than yesterday, cannot set foot in tomorrow.
Let me put it another way and more bluntly, if you eat “chicken back” every day for all the saving grace of “chicken back” steak is a receding possibility. Moreover, chicken back festivals are going to be recurring features of life, and inexplicable and unnoticeable to even trained minds, we will quarrel with the folks who routinely eat steak and consider them as too damn show off. But the people eating steak is not the problem. So, who is?
Without an enthusiastic eye on the future, the future is lost to the past. So, when we come to the edge of our tomorrows and find blind conductors leading orchestras, or that mongrels distrust our friendships, our roar of the lion within us may well earn blank stares or the helpful but quizzical, “I am so sorry for your loss. When was the funeral?”
It’s better, I think, to designate one day as “Chicken Back” day and free our minds to explore the future with the other 364. This will allow the horse that was notorious for being led to the waters and couldn’t be forced to drink, to see life without the unkind blinkers and unpadded saddles we had hitherto condemned him to.
For at the heart of a horse being led to the waters and won’t drink is failure. Not the horses.
Have your imagination at the ready. It’s the key to unlocking our tomorrows and rubbishing the suffocating and confounding hell masquerading as heaven.
Let your roar serve notice to the world about the truth of resurrection. Roar!!
Peter Peterkin, Readers Bureau, Contributor
Edited by Jesus Chan
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