A little of this, a little of that

Another brilliant writing prompt:

Safety
Security is a thumb and a blanket?
Perhaps so.
Is this going to become another damned psych-session in writing?
The living room couch is safe because I don't have to take on responsibilities. I don't have to fail.
This blog is safe not because nobody reads it, but because I don't have to write well. There are thousands of moronic bloggers out there writing about their feelings and their living room couches with oh-so-suave styles and catchy turns of phrase.
What is not safe?
Talking to people is not safe. I cannot control a dynamic conversation.
It's not really all that bad. I'm actually quite good at adjusting on the fly and taking conversations as they come. . . certainly better than many I know. So why do I hesitate at the thought of it? My instinct is to attribute it to human nature. Coward!

Actually, that which is truly safe is that which is right; those things in life that are so undeniably in harmony with both my self - my desires - and what would seem to be the will of God. These things - family, love, fly-fishing. . . exploring and loving the world that God created - are safe for me. I feel right in them.
The problem is that in order to become a "professional", one must endure a time of being outside of this safety. One must, in the short term, forsake desire, sacrificing it for the long-term good. That's not safe.
It needs to be.
It goes back to those responsibilities. It goes back to failure. Why am I afraid? I've failed before. I've had successes before. I've learned every time, no matter what the outcome. Serendipity leads us in such mysterious ways.
From my home, the road to Florida goes through the Smoky Mountains. When I was a child, I was so enveloped in the hopes and dreams of Disneyworld that I didn't note that fact.

Love,
The Revolution