on February 9 | in Vulnerability | by | with No Comments

I have this kid in me. He sits deep inside of me. He is full of toxicity. He is the font of my deep-seated insecurities. And, he has a penchant for self-pity.

Inspired by Joseph Campbell and Robert Bly, I have been writing a myth as a way to meet him.

I know where he lives. I know who has him.  But, I do not know how I will get to him. Not yet. I do not know what I am supposed to do when I meet him. Kill him or heal him? I do not know what I will accomplish upon meeting him. And, sometimes I worry that by seeking him I will become him.

I have been writing (and hoarding) stories for 7 months.

However, after reading Austin Kleon’s “Show Your Work”, I have decided to start sharing them.

The topic and writing style are vastly different from what I have done before. But, there is nothing I can do about that. This is how it wants to come out.  The stories do not arrive in a linear fashion. So, you may find yourself bouncing around in the timeline.

Here is what I think will be (at least first now) the first chapter.

You can find all forthcoming chapters here:



Where am I?

What is this?

He struggles to make sense of his corporeal existence.

He is raised up high.

He is brought down low.

He is shown to those who rushed here to know.

He is passed around.

They each take their time.

He is the most recent one of their kind.

They cradle him close.

They open wide their smiling, crying, amazed, happy eyes.

Do you see me?

Here is my history.

He speed reads.

They are open books.

They hold nothing back.

They want him to look.

He reads to their beginnings.

He pierces their hues.



Hazel, too.

I know you.

Here’s a reminder.

What will you do?

They gaze right back.

Who occupies those blue eyes?

What do they perceive?

What do they see that no one else can see?

What insights, thoughts, and fantasies?

Who will he be?

Deep inside, behind blue eyes, pods open wide.

Tufts of fluffy stuff float far and high.



What will manifest?

What will be?

They will have to wait to see.

How long?

That depends.

It depends on him.

Will he see what he seeks?

Will he seek what he sees?

Will he choose to be?

It depends on them.

Will he be free to be?

What will he have to cede in exchange for some comforts and his safety?

Some of them will never see.

They will leave before he chooses to be.

Who knows?

Maybe, just maybe, they still can see.

That is, assuming, he chooses to be.

But, another like he will never be.


This time, this place, these people make up a one-of-a-kind interface.

All other eyes say goodbye, except for tired eyes.

They stay behind.

They begin to cry.

They do not know why.

They cannot look at his blue eyes.

They try.

He tries.

He wants to see.

He wants to read.

He has yet to reach her beginning.

Tired eyes flee.

Blue eyes track.

Enough is enough.

Tired eyes push back.

Blood-shot whites turn black.

They attack.

Break the blue.

Scream “No more you.”

Pods explode.

Tufts alight.

Every single one of them falls from different heights.

His eyelids close.

He does not know.

Stay or go?


Shawn Humphrey, the Blue Collar Professor (@blucollarprof)
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