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Some Part of You


by Darryl Price


Why can't you just appear? You can take the interesting 
shape of an intelligent lion standing up there in a 
glowing white robe, I see, so why not just come 
on over, Aslan? You're invited. Why does it have to 
be a mysterious projection of a sign? Can't we just 
meet and sit down and have a friendly conversation about 

anything we want without all the theatrics being involved first? 
I accepted you the minute I saw you. I didn't 
run away for hidden cover. I didn't look for a 
sharp, hard weapon out of unwarranted fear. It never even 
entered my mind. I just thought, oh, how lovely it  
all is, here's further proof, but none was actually needed. 

Because everything, as it is already, is an ingenious, individual, 
fascinating being's presence to me, even if they belong to 
a completely different sort of race than I'm used to 
seeing around town. Brought forth from the heart of the 
same universe. The trouble as I see it with talking 
to some particular older trees, for wisdom, is that they 

know how to communicate with you well enough through crystalline 
windows in nature, but may enjoy seeing you squirm between 
an unholy, fake reverence and plain acceptance of the newly 
unearthed facts. For fun. Every living thing enjoys play. But 
more important, everyone and everything responds to love and kindness, 
if given the right amount and in the very best, 

most innocent way possible. That's what all the gobbledygook nonsense 
is always trying to show you. You have the power. 
The power is you. Plus, they know some part of 
you senses their own strange intelligence pulsing out of and 
all around them, but they also feel the resistance of 
your mind, to accepting anything that proves you may have
 
been wrong about what you thought you knew all along, 
for sure. It's all fun and games until the heavy 
artillery comes back out and we're once again where we 
started, being afraid to step out into the light without 
a gun's guaranteed protection. Any light. Any gun. It has 
got to be let go of. The fooling around. The 

awful, slithering fear. The intensity of the joy and of 
the sorrow. Until what is left is just us being 
ourselves as we truly are now in our own deepest 
feelings. Without guilt. Without condemnation. Without regret or blame. Lemurian or Atlantean must come to the table unarmed, vulnerable, and 
yet alive with all possibility and invention available to us.

It doesn't matter who started the war. We both built 
deadlier bombs. We both used them to kill ideas. Home 
is not where the maps said we'd find its shores. 
It's not too late. So, please, welcome. I'm glad you're 
here. Let us highlight peace and live in freedom together. 
Now is no time to hesitate to save the world. 

  
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