Why this story? Why now? Thanks for those—super questions… which I can’t answer. It’s not that I can’t, you understand. Not allowed to. Above my pay grade, to use one of your quaint expressions. You should ask who decided I was the best choice to tell this story. Not that I am not qualified, far from it, but there would be gentler spirits, who would be a littler softer on the ear. I asked around here before beginning this task. You know the drill. With one word, how would you describe my personality? What I got back—impatient, preachy, snippy, passionate. One word stood out the most—prickly. That’s fine. Don’t have a problem with it. Beautiful rose bushes have thorns, don’t they?
This is not like other stories, which have your worldly definition—a beginning, middle, and end which flow from one part to another. It is not a novel you open and close, placing a bookmark where you stopped reading. There are no winners or losers. There are no sad beginnings or happy endings. These are your constructs. This is a live story. It has happened, is happening, will happen. Nothing hidden. All is lurking behind your walls, your perspectives, waiting for you to shift your perception.
Are you ready?
