Three Men and a Barbie Shoe
Three different men, with three different sufferings, and how a tiny, pink Barbie shoe changed their souls.
Three different men, with three different sufferings, and how a tiny, pink Barbie shoe changed their souls.
Like migratory birds responding to an archetypal memory telling them where to go, young men respond, drawn to the mosh pit and the opportunity it offers to work out their emerging warrior energy.
There are some who, like Ophelia, fall into water and drown, their pale hands frantically waving inches below the glassy surface, as if to grasp the bright world beyond and pull it down around them. Those who breathe air and not water pass by and look, but cannot see what lies beneath.
I was given a rare, literally once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to love someone to death, and I missed it.
We are like trees. Our roots go deep and are hidden. Our branches spread wide to the heavens and sway and grow, never the same today as they were yesterday. Who can perceive the whole of us? Every leaf is a story that makes us who we are.