Category Archives: Behavior

Behavior, Eats, Food, Humor, Opinion, Personal, Social Rules

Snobbery

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Snobbery

I’ve irritated some people in my life. Especially those who are arrogant or irritating about the culinary world we experience subjectively. Pineapple on pizza. Ketchup on steak. How meat should be cooked. Whether painted-on eyebrows look strange. I grew up listening to my Mom say, “You don’t know what’s good.” She could eat some things that the vultures would shriek and fly away from. My Dad forced me to eat some nasty stuff; I can laugh about it now. But a part of me laughs and rejoices because I now know he was among the worst to fail to appreciate all the kinds of foods in the world.

There is no right and wrong regarding what you eat or what you like. It doesn’t work that way. And, of course, everyone knows this. For some, the idea of eating fish eggs or oysters, aka snotshells, is as repulsive as watching a 6-year-old pick his nose and then salt and pepper it.

Whether you like your steak bleeding or burned to a crisp, it lies with each person to decide what they like. I watch people argue and criticize what other people eat. The ones criticizing tend to eat some of the most outlandish and nasty stuff on the planet. My brother Mike liked to dip. He’d mock people’s food choices relentlessly. He didn’t take it kindly when I pointed out that it looked like he had let a raccoon poop inside his lip.

If you want to put chocolate pudding on prime rib, fire away.

If you like fresh jalapeños on vanilla ice cream, pile them on there.

And if you like head cheese or liver and onions, I will gladly watch you smile and burp appreciatively as you consume it. Don’t get me started on raw celery, aka The Devil’s Anus.

But if I’m eating burned popcorn or a steak so well done that the fire department is about to come in and you make snide remarks… you’re going to find head cheese or pineapple pizza under your pillow later that night.

Everything about what we like and dislike is subjective.

There are no rules.

We can’t even agree that ties are a stupid anachronism that should be discarded. Or that shrimp are the cockroaches of the sea. But we can mock someone eating fried bologna as we gleefully munch on foie gras as if our choice is superior to theirs.

If you like to eat literal cockroaches, you’re in luck. In my world, I’m going to be fascinated by anything that I consider unusual. But I’m also going to bite my tongue because I embrace the difference in taste that we all experience.

I’m judging you if you judge others for what they put in their mouth. You better check your pillow if I hear you doing it.

It is the lowest form of mockery to mock or attempt to humiliate someone for what they eat or how they enjoy eating it. This is doubly true if you do so in front of other people while they are doing it. I don’t tell you that your pants make you look like one of the mentioned symptoms in a WebMD article; the least you can do is bite your tongue.

“Hunger does not need a cookbook.” – X

“In matters culinary, there is no greater arrogance than objecting to what someone chooses to eat or how they season it, sauce it, or flavor it. I’ve yet to meet anyone who isn’t an idiot with their food, and the feeling is undoubtedly reciprocal.” – X

Love, X
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Behavior, Canada, Justice, Law, Mental Health, Opinion, Safety, Security, Social Rules

Caution For My Canadian Friends

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Social media can be deceptive. Even convicted rapists can you use it as if everyone in the world doesn’t know their past. When you’re aware that people can remain at large in society after being found guilty of heinous behavior, it makes you cynical and paranoid. Most of us would be more comfortable being surrounded by people who’ve robbed banks. It’s not targeted and does not engage the primal fear of helplessness that personal crime does.

Eric Osborne’s blitheness on social media can’t be chalked up to obliviousness. By the point multiple people have accused you of criminal behavior, most people’s veneer of innocence dissipates. This is doubly true if you are convicted of such behavior, as is the case of our Canadian friend Eric Osborne. What creates frustration for his victims is that he’s engaging with the world, one which is largely unaware of his path of endangering women.

What’s different in the Canadian criminal system is that even victims can be subject to an injurious and nonsensical publication ban. This hinders a victim’s right to expression – a hindrance not placed upon the accused. People who have been subject to stalking, harassment, or physical harm can’t talk about the person who committed the acts. This endangers those who are exposed to the person accused of such crimes.

Eric Osborne uses his social media and internet presence to obfuscate how he has terrorized women. It’s no longer a question of opinion or he-said-she-said. Either he’s delusional and detached from the reality that he’s experienced in the criminal justice system, or he Is something else entirely. The woman who experienced him at his worst has several names for this kind of man. “Convicted” carries more weight than “accused.” That he pled guilty to charges relating to violence against women should be more than ample grounds for the Canadian justice system to act accordingly.

Southern Justice, unfortunately, isn’t an approved export.

The ongoing frustration is that he’s out of incarceration temporarily. His presence among us in free society presents of clear and present danger to those he has victimized. He’s out on a technical appeal, even though he pled guilty to similar charges against several other women. This type of insanity is part of the reason why victims become doubly victimized; first by their perpetrator and secondly by the system that allegedly protects them.

One of his very recent posts refers to people gossiping about him. I’m curious as to whether he counts the crown or the prosecution as guilty of gossip. Technically they did gossip when they arrested and then incarcerated him for crimes against women.

I will leave it to all of those curious to Google Eric Osborne and research it for themselves. He resides in Canada. It shouldn’t be difficult for anyone to find a trail of how he’s behaved and whose lives he ruined. Don’t forget to include marital and divorce records if you take a dive. Search for blogs and archives that might make mention of him.

People like him thrive in secrecy. Canada should bow its head in shame at forcing women to remain silent at any point in their experiences. And another prolonged bow for exposing its citizenry to someone who has clearly demonstrated that he’s not yet fit to be roaming the streets among civilized people. Eric is highly intelligent and adept at hiding in plain sight; this chameleon identity is what made him so successful when he chose to victimize women.

X

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Behavior, Government, Justice, Opinion, Social Rules, Work

Act Your (W)age

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Act Your Wage

A friend showed me a meme with this clever turn of phrase. It was in reference to the coworker we all have no matter where we work, the one who acts as if they are in charge. If you work for an organization, it’s a 100% certainty that you have at least one such coworker. Just like you undoubtedly have one that is constantly telling you how busy they are as they stand nearby with a cup of coffee in their hand.

But like all clever phrases, this one started my mind churning. We’ve all heard of quiet quitting by now.

I get paid well for my job, given the requirements. It’s physically tough at times, but my wage is aligned with the principles of fairness. The benefits I enjoy go well beyond what many receive for doing really tough jobs.

But like most people, I know a lot of people who aren’t being paid for the amount of work they do. Many of them are hardwired to do good work and to go above and beyond regardless of the wage they are earning.

I often wonder what the capitalist system would look like if everyone suddenly realized that they should act their wage. The wage they are being paid should reflect their contribution and value. That’s the theory anyway.

I feel even more strongly about this regarding people who are paid the legal minimum. Or people in the service industry being taken advantage of. The tip wage is a nasty anachronism that needs to be eliminated.

Many people have misguided ideas about the effects of higher wages on consumer prices. Even so, it’s hard to reconcile justifying such low wages based on the alleged potential consequence of higher prices. I won’t cite the numerous examples and studies that prove it’s a myth. Because people only acknowledge what already aligns with their belief system. It’s one of the many reasons I prefer to use the term living wage. All of those difficult jobs that aren’t paid sufficiently are required to keep the businesses running. We all enjoy the consequences of lower prices. All too often we do it at the expense of the people at the bottom of the pay range. Many people never have to confront the struggle of those who work hard but know that they’ll likely never escape the endless cycle of indebtedness. If you say, well, they can improve their lives. Although that’s true, we are still going to need people working the positions that others move past in such a scenario.

I look at all of these issues from a liberal viewpoint. But also a practical one. At the center of all these ideas we have are people who deserve better opportunities. I despise the system that allows anything less than a living wage. What constitutes a living wage is up for debate. What’s not on the table for discussion is that it is unethical to me that we willingly look the other way for a big segment of society. I don’t look down on anyone working fast food or cleaning the floors. All of those jobs are necessary for us to enjoy the goods and services they help provide.

Several years ago, there was a movie titled A Day Without a Mexican. It comes to mind when I think about people working for less than a living wage. I imagine a world wherein everyone making less than what is required just to stay even wakes up and refuses to participate in the rigged system.

A famous comedian once said that minimum wage is proof that many businesses would pay you less if they could. And history rubber stamps this idea by demonstrating that people lose sight of the fact that we’re supposed to be our brother’s keeper even in the pursuit of commerce or profit. For those who follow history, even the way we elect our president is a result of a segment of society insisting that enslaving people was justified based on the economic outcome.

I wonder what it might be like if those who are not being paid a living wage followed the principle of Act Your Wage.

It’s not our imagination that doom spending and disengaging from the pursuit of our alleged American dream is accelerating.

I find it hard to judge anyone who resents working hard and being unable to stay caught up. And if you tell me that people will take advantage if we put our hand out to help, my answer is, so what. You don’t fail to reward those who work hard by punishing everyone. The system is rigged in favor of those who already have more than their share.

In the same way that we could feed everyone in the world if we focused our priorities and resources, we could also easily ensure everyone has a slice of the so-called American dream. It’s not a zero-sum game.

X
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Behavior, Cellphone, Entertainment, Humor, Lemon Moment, Movie, Nostalgia, Opinion, Personal, Psychology, Social Rules, Technology

The Magic of Focus

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What makes going to the movie so special? It could be the excessive butter that leads to gas-propelled walking and making you regret every decision you’ve made in your adult life by eating too much of it. The kernels that plague your teeth and make you reaffirm the decision that, yes this year, you need to go to the dentist. It could be the occasional narcissist who thinks that we need their phone lit up in order to see that they are checking their Tinder for people who are really into selfishness. Rarely do you see a brain surgeon at the theater. I really doubt that Chad or Karen needs to check their phone every 16 seconds.

And that leads me to one of the most joyous things about theaters. It is one of the last remaining places that we are supposed to pretend that our life doesn’t require our personal and immediate attention. We get to focus on a fantasy world, feel our heart race, and even feel a tear sometimes form in the corner of our eyes. Without the distraction of devices. We’re just sitting and absorbing a collective story that brings us happiness.

I’m old school. I want to see and hear the nuance on the screen and to dive in to an alternate reality for a couple of hours. To feel the spark of creativity and originality fire in my brain as I watch and listen. And that requires focus. No matter how people defend their restlessness, entertainment without focus is a diluted shadow of the experience when you aren’t aying attention.

I know people roll their eyes at me when I tell them I don’t get bored. There’s no secret to it. Even if you’re sitting alone on a quiet porch, there’s an entire world within your view. And another one inside of your head to match it.

It’s being in the moment and giving each moment your attention. I can’t help but think that so many people are sitting in the passenger seat of their car ignoring the world as it passes by. At the fulcrum of most people’s lives are their phones. They are the best communication and entertainment devices ever invented. But you have to remind yourself that for every second you are distracted by your phone, you are missing the world and the people standing right next to you. If if first come first serve is truly important to us, then surely it follows that the people already with us deserve our undivided attention.

And that’s one of the reasons I love movie theaters. We haven’t quite lost the expectation of being in the moment and focused.

Like all experiences, a great movie that is shared takes on new life. Much in the same way that doing something together has the same result. All of us can list seminal movies that changed us in small ways. None of it could happen without allowing the magic of imagination and focus to envelope us.

Yes, we also get to eat a bushel of popcorn and drink so much soda that we are afraid we might not make it to the bathroom before the movie is over.

Love, X
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Allegory, Behavior, Social Rules, Story

A Parable V

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The morning was colder than expected, and I hadn’t dressed as warmly as I should have. I’d put my feet in the creek until I couldn’t feel them anymore. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted infrequently, its hoot carrying through the early winter air deceptively. On a whim, I decided to climb one of the leafless trees as high up as I could manage. I was careful as I climbed and took my time. Falling in the dark would be an unwelcome surprise. I sat across a large protruding limb with my feet hanging in the darkness. Enough moonlight to see dimly diffused through the branches of the tree. It was beautiful and peaceful, and it still surprised me that more people didn’t attempt to experience it. They were too busy focused on two dimensions, disguising their disinterest as a concern for safety.

“Hey X, it’s too early to be up in the trees!” The voice sounded like that of a young boy. I craned my neck around to see him. I recognized Joshua’s voice despite it sounding completely different. I’d never heard his voice disguised in a younger person’s body.

“Tell that to the owl,” I wryly answered.

“Good point. But owls are designed to be up here.” Joshua laughed.

“I am too, or I wouldn’t be able to up here enjoying the view, Joshua.” I knew he was grinning at my reply.

“Let me come down so that you can see me, X.” I heard quiet movements in the tree next to me. Within moments, Joshua sat about twenty feet away from me.

“X, I know you were thinking earlier this morning about the world and how insurmountable everything seems to be.”

I nodded. “Yes. War. Hunger. People suffering needlessly. I keep waiting for the universe to intervene, even though I know it doesn’t work that way.”

“Remember what I said about truth? It’s deceptively simple. The universe, as you choose to call it, its already given you intelligence, which is all that’s needed to solve every problem in the world.”

I shook my head. “I don’t see it. People getting cancer, going without healthcare, fighting, all of it.”

“Disease, all of them, they can be prevented. But it takes focus. Resources. Intelligence. You have that in abundance. What you don’t have? Focus or the will to pool your resources to enhance education and research. The cure for cancers is amazingly close. But your collective ability to make it happen is absent.”

I laughed. “We can’t stop fighting over imaginary lines in the sand.”

“You could end hunger within two years. There’s enough food for everyone. And resources exceeding your needs. But you spend so much on defending against one another. A quarter of what you waste on defense would solve it. Forever. There will come a time when you’ll understand. But it will take another war to threaten your ability to see how childish your attitudes are.” I could hear the resignation in his voice.

“Everyone preaches compassion and care for one another, but when it’s someone outside their neighborhood, it doesn’t matter.”

“X, that’s it! It’ll stop once you realize that caring for your neighbor means everyone in the world. How you treat one person is how you treat everyone.”

“But…” I started to object.

Joshua rarely interrupted me. “You’re waiting for the universe to intervene. It is not interventionist. All of you are like the man waiting for someone to rescue him from the flooding rooftop, ignoring the boats that pass. You have everything you need in this world. It’s on you. That’s the gift.”

“Joshua, I feel like I’m not supposed to ask, but WHO are you really?” I didn’t expect an answer.

“I am who you say I am. If you’re looking for a title or a neat little box to identify me, I can’t help you. Who do you think I am, X?” I knew Joshua was being cryptic and smiling.

“I think you’re not as good a climber as me, Joshua!” I stood up and began climbing. I heard Joshua’s sneakers scrape against the tree he sat in. I knew he was following me up.

After a couple of minutes, we’d both reached as high as we dared. I looked across at Joshua. His face was illuminated further as the moonlight reached his face. For a brief moment, I saw myself standing in the tree across from me.

Joshua laughed. “I’ll be around, X. I’d tell you to be safe, but I know that there’s no such thing.”

I turned to look at the moon directly for a moment. When I looked toward Joshua again, his tree was empty. I stood in the tree for a few more minutes, listening to the owl and feeling the cold permeate me. Cold is always temporary, and insight is forever.

Love, X

Allegory, Behavior, Psychology, Story, Writing

A Parable IV

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I found myself at the grocery store at 6 a.m. I wanted to go earlier, but COVID ruined such earlier adventures. I had no shopping list and was letting my whims propel my feet around the store. As usual, I spent excessive time in the sauce aisle; I can eat cardboard, provided I have sufficient things to dip it in.

Eventually, I searched for kale, lettuce, or mustard greens in the produce aisle. While sorting the lettuce, I heard a man behind me clearing his throat. Assuming I was in someone’s way, I turned and stepped aside.

An older man stood about five feet away. In his hand, he held a single green apple.

“Good morning, X,” he said and twirled the apple in his fingers.

Three weeks had passed since I last saw the man who once answered to the name Joshua. He looked different, something I realized would probably be the case each time I encountered him.

I knew not to engage in small talk. Whatever his reason for finding me, passing the time idly wasn’t on his agenda.

“You can’t be sure how the apple tastes, can you, X? It could be bitter or brown on the inside. No one enjoys that.”

I nodded. “Yes, we do focus on the appearance and just trust that it’s delicious.”

“Nature and evolution have designed things so that beauty attracts. It’s the way of things. Everything here is probably safe unless you’re allergic.” He smiled slightly and waited for me to formulate a reply.

“The same is true for people, Joshua. I wish it weren’t so.”

“X, beauty attracts. Even in the wild, that’s how it works, for either mating or consumption. A bird sees a brilliant red berry and swoops to eat it, not knowing it might be poisonous. Or if it does eat it, the same bird passes the seeds far away, ensuring the plant survives. It’s fascinating. Beauty has its purpose but beguiles when it conceals something else.”

I moved slightly closer to the produce bins and out of the aisle. “Sometimes I wish I were blind around people. It would make life easier.”

Joshua shook his head. “If you’re hinting at love and attraction, you’re right. Beauty attracts – but it doesn’t keep us close. A famous song once said that a pretty face doesn’t make a pretty heart.”

“No truer words have been spoken, Joshua.”

“It’s why you are designed with primal instincts. But it’s also why you have reason to overcome emotion. If you practice, you learn to see what’s on the inside of someone before taking a proverbial bite.” Joshua softly laughed. “We know how that usually works out.”

I laughed in response. “Our senses are designed to bring pleasure and seek out flavor, aroma, and beauty. We can eat our favorite meal, but if we smell barbeque, our desire for it almost cancels out what we’re having.”

“Ideally, you find someone who attracts you and has the capacity for love, humor, and understanding. But if they are like a bad apple, you won’t know until you bite. The error falls on you when you recognize the taste is off, but continue to let beauty dissuade you from getting another apple. You keep eating the same apple or keep picking up the same kind.” Joshua grinned slightly.

“If that’s the case, how do you know you’ve got a good apple, Joshua?”

Joshua smiled. “By observing their behavior, as I’ve told you before. It’s always in the behavior. Good people behave lovingly, have compassion, and don’t engage in complexity when dealing with others. They are who they say they are, and they do what they say they will. Beauty will fade. Character and who they are will not diminish with time.”

“What kind of apple do you recommend today?” I wasn’t sure if I was speaking metaphorically. I’d let Joshua decide.

“There are so many varieties of apples, X. Some of the best ones look less appealing but conceal a lot of flavor. You’ll know when you bite and find one suited to you.” Joshua smiled.

I smiled as I moved toward the display of apple varieties. As Joshua watched, I chose two random apples from six bins and put them in my basket.

Joshua laughed. “You’re learning, X.”

“I’m not so sure, Joshua.”

“That’s good. Certainty is the hallmark of closed minds. People with doubts keep learning and seeking.” With these words, Joshua turned and walked away and out of sight around the next aisle.

Love, X

Allegory, Behavior, Psychology, Story

A Parable III

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A parable III

As I drove on the interstate heading toward Lowell, I saw a motorcycle coming up fast behind me. It was changing lanes as the man expertly swerved and maneuvered through traffic. As the bike passed me on the left, I looked over briefly to see a younger man without a helmet looking back toward me as he passed. His upper body was covered in tattoos. He nodded once at me as he roared past. Something about him seemed familiar. He sped on, and I forgot about him after a couple of minutes.

Pulling into the industrial warehouse parking lot, I drove around the side of the long building and parked. When I exited the building, I saw that the man who passed me on the motorcycle was in the parking lot. He leaned against his bike as if he were waiting. He was close to the entrance I needed. 

As I drew closer, he nodded and said, “Hello, X.” 

I stopped and looked at him, trying to place him in my memory. When my eyes met his, I realized it was the man who once answered to the name Joshua. Gone were the wrinkles and gray hair. 

“I see that you’re starting to see things as they are, X.” Joshua smiled intently.

“It’s quite a shock to recognize you, even though you’ve changed your camouflage, Joshua.” 

“X, I never camouflage. I am each of the people you see and am always myself. Simplicity is always complex, and vice versa, if you’re paying attention. And I think that you are.” Joshua laughed, this time a young man’s laugh, full of baritone and vitality. 

“I wish I could do that, Joshua. Change things up at will.” I smiled at my cleverness.

“But you can. When you realize it, you’ll wonder why you put on the same clothes and followed the same unsurprising path each morning.” 

“Joshua, I can’t change everything about myself on a whim like you.” I thought I had him cornered with my reply. I should have known better.

“I haven’t changed. It is your perception of me, X. When I passed you on the interstate, you only saw a speeding tattooed young man on his way to trouble. Am I wrong?”

I hesitated. “Well, yes. But that’s because that’s what I saw, Joshua.”

Joshua smiled. “What have I told you about how much of an illusion your eyes provide you? I ride the interstate like I am to remind people of the part of their nature that they think they miss. Adventure, being carefree, happy, without a care – and even danger. The illusion is that they already have all those things each day, if they choose them. It is a choice. And the universe is not a safe place to believe otherwise.”

I nodded because it always sounded true when he spoke, even if I didn’t understand the nuance. We usually do recognize truth, even if it is only in tiny morsels. And sometimes, not even when life gives it to us via a board across the back of our heads. 

“I look like this because people only see the truth from a place or person they are familiar with. Some see it in older people, some in teachers, and others in the clergy. Others find it in nature. Everyone would be happier if they realized that they could learn from anyone. That includes laborers, ex-convicts, and even the angry man shouting three doors down. Life is the teacher, and each person plays a role, positive or negative. But they must be willing to experience life from that perspective. You wouldn’t invest your life’s earnings with me, would you? But you’d assume I could change the tire on a car.”

“Damn, you got me again, Joshua.”

“Just don’t let your eyes or experience make assumptions for you, X. Everything has something to teach you.” He smiled again.

“Okay.”

“You promise?” He asked. “Ex nihilo nihil fit,” he added. “I don’t mean it in the philosophical sense. You can’t squeeze juice from a rock or get meaning from life unless you learn and pay close attention. Always.” 

With those inscrutable words, Joshua turned and sat on his motorcycle.

“I’ll see you another day, Joshua. Be safe.”

“There is no safety. Just precaution. You’ll learn about that, too. But another day, X.”

Just as my mouth opened to reply, Joshua’s bike roared to life, and he sped away, around the building and probably back toward the interstate. 

When I finished my errand, I drove back to the interstate, watching the hundreds of vehicles merge, pass, and continue on. Each contained someone who could teach me something if I listened.

Love, X

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Allegory, Behavior, Psychology, Story

A Parable II

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A Parable II

I was bone-weary after work, waiting for my second or third wind to invigorate me. Because I’ve learned that it works the other way around and that movement precedes energy, I drove several miles to be close to the river. I walked barefoot along the rocks and underbrush, not knowing if I was trespassing or who owned the land. After twenty minutes, the sun came through the clouds and warmed me considerably. I rolled up my pants and waded into the river until the water reached above my knees. I wanted to swim across to the other bank. 

From behind me, a familiar voice startled me. I couldn’t quite place the voice. When I turned to see who was on the bank, I saw an older man holding a walking stick. His dark eyes watched me intently. 

“Are you lost in thought out there?” 

“Yes, I am. I was certain I was alone out here,” I replied. “You look and sound familiar.”

The old man smiled. “You met me a couple of weeks ago by the creek, sitting on the bench.” His smile became slightly quizzical.

I nodded. “You look…different, though. And your voice is deeper.”

“Sometimes I change what is concealing me.” I knew he wasn’t talking about just his clothing. It surprised me that I wasn’t concerned or alarmed. Some people seem to be exactly who they are no matter how you see them.

“I’m X, by the way. What’s your name?” 

He nodded. “I know who you are, of course. Most people used to call me Joshua, X. It’s as good a name as any.” He looked up. “I can call it the sky or the above; it’s still the same thing.” 

I laughed. Having changed my name, which I felt he somehow knew, I understood better than most. 

“Nice to meet you, Joshua.”

Joshua nodded.

“X, what was on your mind when you got out there in the water?” 

I shook my head. “I guess it’s the mess we make of our lives when our words and actions don’t align. People are a constant source of letdown, Joshua.”

Joshua grinned, this time with a wide smile, exposing brilliantly white teeth. “A better way to demonstrate what motivates you is how you act. Words are easy. People should be able to watch you and see. Even if they don’t know what motivates you, they can see the behaviors that faithful and loving people are supposed to emulate. And I don’t mean that phony way that so many assume when they’ve seen a part of the light. Love only exists when it’s expressed through behavior.”

“I’m not sure I agree. If someone is holding me and telling me that they love me, isn’t that part of it?” 

“You’ve missed the subtle point. They are showing you through behavior. They are with you, giving their time, presence, and focus. People make time for the things they value, just as they shun what they don’t. If you learn to watch them, you’ll know. That closeness is the gift.” 

“Damn, you’re right!”

“Yes, I know.” He waited a second before laughing. “When you first went into the river, I saw you looking across it. If you want to get across the river without having to swim, just walk directly toward the dead tree over there.” He pointed at a broken tree near the water’s edge on the opposite shore. 

“How will I get back across?” I sounded stupid when I said it.

“No, it’s not stupid. I will leave my walking stick here in the mud like I always have. You just need to look for it when you’re ready to come back.”

“Deal,” I said and turned to walk across the river’s unseen depths. I don’t know why I didn’t doubt him. “I’ll see you later, Joshua.”

“Surely you will, X,” the old man said as I started wading across the river. When I reached the opposite bank, I turned and saw the walking stick jutting from the mud of the riverside, just as he promised. 

I spent an hour walking the woods on the otherwise unreachable side of the river before returning to find my way toward the walking stick. As I passed it, I left it in the mud for the next person to find. Although I doubted many people found their way to this spot given the difficulty of doing so, I have learned that someone always follows in the steps you’ve walked. 

Love, X

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