Sometimes it feels like we’ve been thrown into this world blindfolded with cotton stuffed in our mouths and rubber in our ears. And we’re bumping into each other and stumbling and feeling every nudge, scratch, bump and fall. And the world is cold and dark and we’re deaf to each other. But in the middle of it all, we still feel each other. We feel for warmth when the sun goes down. We huddle together to stay alive. And yet we’re given sticks and stones and guns and bombs. And nobody really knows what they’re doing. But we don’t even need weapons to hurt one another. Sometimes all it takes is the cover of a blindfold to stop us from seeing where we put our hands. Our feet. Our words. Our hurts. I guess that is why we’re so drawn to miracle stories and healing. Because we sometimes feel so damaged that we want to know that once in a while we get it right.

Life is this thing bigger than all of us and part of it is to forget that we’re connected to it. That we all share the same blood, even if it’s a different type. That we all share the same skin, even if it’s a different colour. That we all have a voice even when we don’t know it exists. We are one stone in a path across the river.

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