Stop hiding

C'mon, now, where you hidin'?

Ollie, ollie, oxen-free! The waiting's over! The jig is up... or the gig—I don't know which is correct. Certainly not the rig; that is most definitely down—on the floor of the Gulf.

Speaking of gulfs, this space between us—between those of us out here in the light and you, muffled inside your comforting, comfortable, illusory world, balanced on the head of a pin—it's really not as big a gulf as it may at first appear. Yes, coming out into the raw light of awareness is a bit frightening at first, a little disorienting, to be sure. But it's not a long or arduous journey. Just a few steps and an opening of your eyes...

Okay, look, what will it take for you to come out into the light and show your face? Your angry, worried, hopeful, fear-ravaged, exasperated, eager face. Here's an enticement: you are needed. Yes, you. You specifically. We few out here in the open are waiting for you. Actually, there are more than a few of us now, but certainly not enough yet. So we're peering into the dark corners and shadowy passages for you. We need you. We need you more than we can adequately express. We need you now.

So take that first step. Loosen your desperate grip on the comforting darkness, the false promise of its enveloping, smothering insincerity, and take one step forward. We'll meet you halfway. We know you've caught an occasional glint of the light. We know because we've been tilting our pocket mirrors in your direction, our belt buckles, our pens—anything we have handy to reflect the light toward you, there in your darkness, anything to help you see and believe. We want you to know.

Please, we're begging you. We cannot do what needs to be done without you. Now is the time. Now. Just reach out your hand—