I don’t suppose we have lost it, because we know it is there. It is more that we have chosen to separate it; to put it in its own little box apart from us. We on occasion pull it closer to talk about it, to examine it (at arm’s length of course), and to even (less occasionally) take it out of its box and hold it, talk to it, feel it. Yet as a whole we always put it back in its box and back in its place; over there. And regarding any individual who insists on us examining it more closely, together, we are at times forced to build a box around you and move a discreet distance further away; hopefully not enough to hurt your feelings but necessarily enough to dim and blur. Sure, you can go on and on but from your box I only hear tinny, two-dimensional words. And because your words have become meaningless, you are meaningless.

Appropriate. What is appropriate? Anger is certainly not appropriate because your anger makes me uncomfortable. And because it makes me uncomfortable, I can only imagine the discomfort you must feel. So no. Anger is not appropriate. Anger is not allowed. Sadness? In small doses. To carry on for any length of time is certainly not appropriate and cannot be comfortable, again for either me or you. So if you must be sad, I have this little box that is just your size. Comfort. That is our goal. Be it cheerfulness, happiness, humor, calm productivity, courtesy, pretension, subservience… I could go on. There are many appropriate vehicles for delivering peace and comfort. Find one and join us on our quest for tranquility. There are so many reasons for living in the moment but most importantly the moment has no time for regret or worry. Learning from the past? Living for the future? Bah! Overrated. I’m okay right now and that’s all that should matter. And when I string this okay moment with the next okay moment, and the next and the next and the next and the next and the next and the next, I am comfortable.

Perhaps because it is not lost, it cannot be found. Perhaps it will simply continue to fade until it completely disappears. Yet if you would only hear my anger, feel my sadness, perhaps we could learn to live with it outside its box; outside our box. Nurture it; care for it; really mean it. And perhaps in that manner it will again become three dimensional; with depth, and character, and life. I am afraid. I am afraid that if it disappears, we will disappear. And I am afraid that if we disappear, I will disappear. So I suppose, like you, I am also selfish, but my indulgence contributes whereas yours merely maintains.

We (you and I) assert our allegiance, proclaim its importance, yet we ignore its demands. To uphold its integrity is too often not comfortable. So we put it back in its box. To uphold its integrity requires anger and sadness, the focus of which (if we are serious) should be on our contributions to improving its deficiencies not on further division between factions. Those who perpetuate divisiveness are not serious, just angry. To be serious is to be both angry and sad. To be serious is to learn from the past in order to live in the moment for the future.

But if the moment is comfortable, which, (because I have a window to look through), it is, there is no need to be serious. I built your box (purposely) with no windows. But I still want you to be okay in your moment. So because I want you to be okay in your moment, and because I am generous, kind, benevolent, I will occasionally invite you to join me to look out my window. But when I have extracted enough additional life force from you, and when I believe you have been sufficiently appeased, softened, unknowingly diminished, and when I feel gratified in my largesse, back you go, in your box; over there.

Now as for what's keeping me and it in our respective boxes, over there…?

I earned it! I deserve it!

No, you didn’t. No you don’t. It is a random gift.

It is mine!

Temporarily.

Then it is my legacy! I will pass it on! To family! To a chosen few!

Because they earned it? Because they deserve it?

I can't love you all the time.

I am not asking you to love me.

Well, what then?

If I have to ask, when I ask, you only build bigger and stronger boxes.

I don't see it as a box. I see it as guidance; instruction; boundaries. I am maintaining order, keeping the peace, giving you purpose.

As you have been given purpose.

I create my own purpose.

From inside your own box.

What?

From inside your own bigger box.

No.

Yes.

Enough! I can't love you all the time. Your words have become meaningless once again making you meaningless. I have put you back in your box so if from there you continue and become too great of a distraction, keeping you from your purpose, keeping me from my purpose, you will have given me no choice but to have your box removed and placed in storage. I can make decisions because my vantage point (with its narrow window) from outside your box allows me to see and interpret your who, what, where and why. If you continue I will have no choice but to make decisions accordingly.

Understood. I will continue to fulfill (your interpretation of) my purpose and I will continue to be both angry and sad; and though some may seep out around the edges, I will work hard to keep it inside and, in your presence, maintain a calm productivity tied to subservience. I will do this because in this tangible world I cannot afford not to. You may consider this my gift to you.

It is appropriate behavior, but I see it not so much a gift as your responsibility.

It is a temporary gift.

I would be remiss to not point out my recent generosity, kindness, benevolence; as well as recent invitations to join me and look out my window. And though yes, this acknowledgement was a long time coming, and yes, the actuality does not even begin to close the gap, my hope is that you have been sufficiently appeased, softened, unknowingly diminished. I am gratified in my largesse as you should be. Now back you go, in your box; over there.

It is a temporary gift.