The Death Of Pop’s Breathing brings the noise-less-ness, the sullied, and the incomparable sighing we all have gone through, seeing the disappointment and the inexcusable. It’s a depression. It brings out the anger, among the calm exterior. And we love it.
Many people come up to us and say, “Buck up, be strong. It’ll get better.”
Wonder how many of those person with that kind of generalized suggestion, utilize the same advice in their own lives? Maybe all the time. Maybe at just moments in their lives. Maybe never.
Hanging on a word or phrase is hard. Hanging on a word or phrase to click oneself back to reality and go forward, is harder.
The dangle of the dangling fruit, small but bright – on that nylon fishing line – it’s tempting. Must. Not. Get. Enamored.
But we do. Many of us do. Sometimes harmlessly. Sometimes, with devastating consequences.
Let’s agree that we’re no perfect animal.
Let’s just breathe. One breath, two breaths, three breaths.
Let’s go chill at the pond.
FYI. SoYoungMagazine featured them too. Deserved.