Victim is a causal word. As the wise old Pat Riley once said, “One man’s victim is another man’s lap dance.” Of course, not all of us have the benefit of being at the head of the most electrifying offense to ever strike the court of the mid 1980’s NBA. But we don’t need it.
We are the victims. We are the predators.
Our existence connotes suffering. With it, nothing but pain. Without it, it wouldn’t be worth it.
We create our lives in the white margins – in the space of which we are neither victim, nor predadtor – in the space where we drop our perceptions of our causal relation to the world around us.
It’s the only place anything real ever gets done.
What shall we save?
What we can.
How shall we seek asylum?
As needed.
*this post is a philopsophical diatriabe loosely based on the entire plot of the movie FernGully
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