The Modern Hero

A hero must give back all that was unrightfully inherited. The fight is no longer against nature, but against the constructs confining ourselves. Relearning how to trust others, share, and care for the land. If we want freedom, we must live out our contracts we have made, attempt to not pass on any obligations to our children, and work towards surrendering to the misfortune we have created. Learn the impacts of what we have created, feel the suffering, and heal each other. Our modern hero is not the one pushing the boundaries of what stuff can do, but those pushing the boundaries of how love can heal.

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The Mosquito

Please understand this piece is supposed to be an exaggerated metaphor on human’s relationship with the constant struggle of living. The mosquito, a tiny little pest that all-to-often ruins my day, represents all of the little struggles we run into throughout our daily life. The ludicrous examples of “attempting” to fix the problem are how I feel we try to handle the continual onslaught, oftentimes overworking ourselves just to solve something we could ignore or prevent with an extra layer of clothing. The third paragraph is a metaphor for hiding our problems inside of ourselves instead of addressing them with a conversation that would be uncomfortable. Often I would say the lack of vocabulary, structure, and timing around communicating feelings is the beginning of the discomfort.

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Taking One on the Head

Stuck inside, I dive deep into the ocean avoiding the oncoming wave. Hoping to not be sucked into the wave and thrown over the falls. Swimming down a bit late, I am lucky this wave’s energy doesn’t descend deep, but it does show up early and stay late…

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Nightly Journaling

Crawling into bed she reaches over grabbing her journal and pencil. The bedside lamp shines its yellow glow upon the unlined paper. The page is blank, yet her mind is full of the day. Each night she slides under the covers, following the same routine. She asks herself five questions, recording her thoughts, then lays her head down to fall asleep. That routine has just begun. Tapping her eraser against the blank page she runs through her day. Then, she writes:

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My Perfect Day: Late Morning

After the memory card fills with morning barrels or a dead camera battery, I swim to shore to exchange my camera for a surfboard. Getting back to the van, my partner is dancing to some of her favorite tunes and she makes her morning coffee. The way her smile touches her ears as she sips that mud water, releases a net-full of butterflies into my belly.

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How Much Would You Risk?

In a split second while you are walking down the street, the cartoon lightbulb flashes on. Your mind and heart eagerly agree that the idea is perfect, the timing is right, and you should do it. So, you sit down, take out your notebook, and jot down the idea so clear you see straight to the bottom. Looking up from your notebook you notice the sun has faded into the night sky. Can I really do this? The argument begins.

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Learning to See

My childhood dreams were simple; see the world and become a writer. Today, becoming a writer is easy, just self-publish from your laptop to your website using the free wifi at the local library… hair-flip, checkmark. However, seeing the world requires me to actually get my rear-end off the couch. 

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