Dear you,
Mythic Atlas holds the world on his shoulders. Is he losing his grip? It seems this is so.
To type my spin on another war, the terrorist attack against Israel this weekend, is something I don't want to do. My words fail, cannot capture what needs to be said. I will, however, share a simple moment from this time. I call it a Bubble Moment:
Sometimes I have to walk away from the coverage of world events; yes, I have the luxury of doing that. I frequently tune in to reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond, Mike and Molly, and Friends late at night. I know the plots and everything gets resolved or at least tidied up in a thirty minute box. A night or so ago, a Friends episode featured a view from a character's office, a perfect view of the Rockefeller Center Atlas. This popped my bubble of escapism. This god, forever, must support the sky. The Fifth Avenue statue depicts him supporting the entire globe. What happens if and when he can no longer bear the weight? What happens if he (alluding to Rand's writing) shrugs? That is what I feel like has happened these days. Atlas has shrugged, but the sky hasn't fallen.
Atlas is us, the ones who hope to be on the right side of history. I want to be a part of that. I'll begin by turning off the reruns and emerging from all things "bubble".
That's all I've got this day.
Love and endurance,
Joyce
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