I was younger than I now am, when I wandered fruitfully through the harsh Negev in Southern Israel. I had opinions, some vision of a future, perhaps a pipe-dream.
At the time, I believed I knew everything, I was as enlightened as the next white-man in colourful pants and circular sunglasses, vigorous, naive, wilful, and full of virtue.
Now, many years later I feel old. Tired from the changing tides. Exhausted from the up-keep of acting liberal, and fragile from ignoring my own existence, cutoff from my small corner of humanity at home.
I see the news. I read the headlines. I speak with friends in Tel Aviv, friends in Gaza, my Jewish brothers, my Arab sisters, and I ponder from my perch.
It begs the question, is it shameful to no longer care? Life is short, life is fleeting, I’ve been selfishly kind to my brain for sometime now and it’s brought me relative peace.
One day I hope to return to the centre of the Earth. And I hope it is as calm as it was when I was last there, I hope in the future it’s still there, the people, the languages, the sounds.
Perhaps this is still the same pipe dream that once fuelled my heart.
Who are we if we do not dream?
Have a nice day,
Wee Bronson 👊