Sticks, Not Stones

It feels very natural to have sticks in my hands.

I like swords, daggers, drumsticks, yardsticks, dowels, twigs, you-name-it. I like to wield them. They are extensions of my arms, become part of my body. And they are powerful—I feel powerful when I hold them. Not that I’m going to use them as weapons against anyone. Just holding them is enough.

And maybe some swordplay choreography. And moving like a dance, so that my arms are now wings, as I stretch to the sky, make wide circles with my pinions, arcs as vast as canyons. I become Peter Pan, a pirate, a soldier, a Cherokee warrior. The potency in my hands. And in my mind. Because the stick is ultimately just a prop. The real strength is in my will. And my will has never been stronger, ladies and gentlemen.

There have been obstacles thrown up this year, but it’s time to take up the sword and rise up. Make hay while the sun shines. Get thee behind me, Fear, Indolence, Insecurity. Meet the new gods in town: Confidence, Industriousness, Ambition.

How do I revere them? By walking tall and carrying a big stick, naturally.

Comments

Martin said…
Huzzah my beautiful friend! YES! Sticks are just the physical manifestation of your will, the face you choose to put on it. See the power you have buried deep within you and draw it out however you can! Drive the light in front of you! BE BOLD! Be Loved and Loving! Be YOU, Queen Mab! YOU!
Gina said…
I see Queen Mab riding a dragon, sword aloft, through the nights!! And she is ME!! BOLD!!! Huzzah, m'dear!!! <3

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