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It’s been a while since the end of ACT 3. Apologies.


What was unwritten in the storyboard at the time of last entry played out during 2022 and beyond into an ongoing test of resilience — to the extreme.


Let’s pick up where I left off: calm seas and clearing skies… weather always changes, right?!

Stormy seas

The allusion in the final words of ACT 3 was in taking on a new responsibility and purpose as the head of a marine conservation charity. I took the bait, and dived in. The sky had cleared, and the seas were calm, and the clinging tentacles of a toxic monster from the deep became more of a distant memory, creating space for remarkable edification in respect of such a creature, about which I didn’t care to think about too much any more.


In comparison to the keel-hauling of prior years, escaping from the torture of physical, mental and emotional abuse and being able to rise from the depths — and breathe freely once again — was life-affirming.

Shadows in the sun

The sun shone, and my young son continued (and continues) to be my primary point of reference for every choice I made (and make) each and every day. 


Then something came to light. Something you cannot rationalise, cannot relate to (at least, I hope not), cannot comprehend; something that strikes right to the inner nerve of your soul. A vile, twisted, rotten tentacle resurfaced, stalling the rudder, bringing the head of its deranged and disfigured form onto an otherwise unspoiled horizon.


Apologies if you think I’ve been leading you on, although there are no facts of the matter to follow (the details are not for me to share) except to say that, despite the trauma of it all — for well over a year, now — the best of times are what I have enjoyed throughout. Simple moments, magical moments, adorable moments… an unbreakable bond has been reinforced. His innocent truth is the only thing that matters; the truth I seek to protect him from, and the truth the monster from the deep will continue its attempts to thwart, deny, and reinvent.

A burned tree in an open landscape

Meanwhile, I’m still moving and standing, despite it all. The universe continues to work its wonders and atrocities, whether we notice them occurring, or not. The construct of society in which we all play our parts continues to dysfunction as we scramble to survive and adapt to its atrophy. We must keep the flame of hope, kindness, and joy alight — wherever and whenever possible.


That test of resilience I mentioned… all in all, I think I’ve smashed it, so far; in no small thanks to my nearest and dearest of friends (family by any other name) and for whom I feel guilt for soaking up their compassion, kindness, and sagacious counsel — even when they are trying to cope with their own tests of resilience due to the onslaught of their own life challenges and nature’s afflictions.



Perhaps this is a somewhat profound and obscure update, after so long?


All I can suggest is:


Just be kind.

To yourself. To those who deserve it. And to those who don’t.

(Know the difference.)

I wish you well, dear reader and visitor.

Boy on a beach
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