Let's talk youth mental health and be bold about putting our kids first. Let's talk about quality years left to live rather than simply body counts. For we cannot in these pandemic years sacrifice the mental health of the young to save the old. We can, and should, shield others and do our best for them - but let the kids live, let them have the experiences evolution has built their brains to require for healthy development. Otherwise it is not only they who'll suffer, yet the generations that follow via intergenerational traumas and epigenetic changes. And yes, we know that children can be tragically affected, but those cases are the equivalent of lightning strikes and we cannot create public policy based on such low probabilities.
At first glance the diver only saw pink coral. She took out a camera and began to take photos for the magazine. After she had enough shots she drew closer to feel it. Something moved. Frozen in place she observed for a few minutes, then like one of those fancy trick 3D pictures she began to see something else. There was a pygmy seahorse with it's tail wrapped around the coral, its camouflage was so much like it's surroundings that just melted from view the second she stopped focusing on where it was. Its body was a soft pink was the exact shade of the main stems but it had darker pink lumps on it just like its home.
The bounty of the once denuded winter wands comes forth in the autumnal days, for after the green foliage has soaked in the long summer rays, the red berries swell. For this is the nurture of the Earth for the birds who sing so freely in the rain-cloud softened blue, to feed creation in the colder months to come.
I sigh, closing my leather journal and setting it (along with my pen) aside in my small, light cerulean blue satchel. The satchel has been my best friend ever since I first found it in the antique store five and a half years ago when mom and dad had given this to me as a kind of early birthday gift. It was the last thing both my parents had given to me before passing.
The leather used to be new, polished, smooth even. Now after five years of having this satchel it's finally starting to look timeworn, but it's that kind of oldish, worn out look makes it all the more appealing for me.
When we "take on our own," when instead of "us vs them" it becomes "us vs us" the human psychology leaps from "war mode" to "peace mode" as it is an evolutionary drive for survival to seek peace in our own "tribe."
If midsummer is a ballet dancer, a prima at her peak, then midwinter is the solid stage she needs beneath her feet.
We'd be eating the last of the zombie skittles, tasting the rotten rainbow, as we played skittles with real zombies, always inventing more deadly steel bowling balls.
The misery of your departure haunts me; the pain of your not coming anymore pains me. On the top of it- the viciousness of the generation; what do I do? Staying awake, looking all night; hoping to catch a glimpse of you- but there is no 'YOU.' I don't receive any news regarding you.
Many memories came, and went by; but this time, you need to come. Do not bring the intention of leaving me again; just bring yourself. When others go through what I have gone, they will feel my pain. There is no sunshine without you; no rain without you. If you wanna know what is it like to live without a heart, ask me. There will be a way that leads to me - follow it forever; listen to what it wants to say. Bring the news to me, that you are coming, my love. Please.
I can't live without you, anymore. Without you, what is the purpose of my existence? If I will embrace you, I'll embrace my soulless self.
Because it is you. Only you. You are my life. You're my pain- you're my relief. You are my love.
What is your relationship with me, that I can't afford to stay a moment away from you? I live for you everyday, my time is devoted to you. No moment is a moment without you. Your name is etched on each breath of mine.
I have lived only for you; I am prepared to die for you. Your thoughts gave me the emotional support I needed in your absence. They took out the grief which presided in my heart, but now the melancholy has returned with thrice the effect.
You are my lucky-clover. I am content with you.
But all these years, that I've tried to stay away, tried to keep you safe from my evil clutches- they are heart wrenching. I can't endure the pain anymore!
In the pandemic many nations chose new temporary national anthems to rally a spirit of togetherness, we Brits went for "the frog song," or rather, "We All Stand Together," by Sir Paul McCartney.
Lightning lit the skies in brilliant streaks. Fog embraced every tree, every square centimetre of of ground. Thunder declared itself as some rock star upon the stage. Sheets of rain revived the grass, resounding and rippling without frontier.
Above, the houses on the hill survive in valley-echoed hail.
Emerald eruptions of green envelop countryside in a carpet of living nature. Towers and trees - once boundless and bare - now flourish with vines, victorious as they claim their valley.
Streams once sucked of their nourishing liquids are now bustle with aquatic activity. Ripples run freely, harbingers of joy. The river, slowly but surely, creates a new liberty, surging over the banks to create a space, carving and forming the new paradise.
There, among the regenerating giant, a boy sat gazing out as nature unfolds its hidden secret.
