Rain is coming. The distant thunder is a clarion call. Life is calm in the Woods. July is a week old. We awaken looking east and sleep toward the west. Our days are numbered, yet the hours seem plentiful. We take them, checklist each morning. What are the duties of the day?

Communism is a renewed threat in America, the leader says. Democratic Socialism is communism, the leader tells us. Putin is a Communist, as is Chi. A new Bogeyman to cloud the facts.

We have faults until we can create a Strawman to blame them on. Suddenly we are alright. We are exonerated for the greater good. Titles we do not know the meaning of. Rhetoric based on the reality of our fantastic story we have constructed in our minds. Do not worry about affordability; blame the Communist. The war in Iran, the Strait of Hormuz, obviously the Communist. When did we decide we prefer… much prefer the Story of Us to the reality of us?

‘So I am living the dream, Chet said. ‘I was riding herd with John Wayne the other day, and we stopped at the O.K. Corral and had breakfast with Wyatt Earp and his brothers,’ Chet laughed. ‘In walks Doc Holliday and tells Snidely Whiplash, ‘I’m your Huckleberry,’ Chet said wide-eyed. ‘Tess Trueheart walked into the saloon with Dick Tracy on her arm, with Breathless Mahoney walking behind them,’ Chet noted with some breathlessness himself. ‘Dick Tracy told John Wayne that he would join him at the O.K. Corral, and Tess Trueheart said she was coming also,’ Chet smiled. ‘Mumbles commented on the plans, but no one understood him,’ Chet laughed.

‘Wake up, Chet,’ Jane said. ‘You have fallen asleep while we were floating across Pounds Hollow. I think you were dreaming,’ Jane laughed.

So it goes as we carry our candles on the path home. Many use a fog machine to hide the path. There are real problems and solutions to those problems, or there is made-up stuff that is deceptive and damaging to us. We thrash about searching for the Wise Woman or the Wise Man to help us. The Strawmen wave at us along the path home.