02: Racing toward that future

Did you think I forgot about you? No, it just took me longer to reach this particular destination.

Hi, everyone.

I had a little fear to swallow in getting here. I’m still figuring out what exactly I’m nervous about, but I heard the other day that the scariest part about writing is that you will change a little after.

Maybe, sometimes, we are not ready to be the people we are becoming. And in facing our fears, our resistance isn’t to judgment or failure, but undergoing the inevitable process of change when you give yourself to something new.

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The Uchchaihshravas is a seven-headed flying horse in Hindu mythology. It’s considered the best of horses and represents speed, valour, growth, and perseverance.

You’ve probably seen images of the seven horses before, in offices, homes, bars — the last time I saw it, it was at a billiards hall in Palms. Then, I saw it at a baby shower.

It’s kind of fun to spot when you’re out.

You can put the image of the seven horses in your office to give you fortitude, direction, a sense of power. But placing these seven horses at a galloping speed in your bedroom, is said to disrupt peaceful sleep and bring negative energy.

There’s other rules to the seven horses, too — don’t have the horses facing south, because that could mean you’re headed the wrong direction. Find horses that are smiling, not sad. White horses are better than black horses.

I was reminded of this image when listening to The Voidz’ latest song, released this week, “7 HORSES.” (New album out today, wow.)

“We were riding the diamond trail,

Seven horses dragged us to Hell

What could went wrong

But our will was strong”

Are these seven horses dragging us to hell?

I, too, have felt I’ve ridden a diamond trail at times.

Meanwhile, the world spins on. This week, a new breakthrough in Alzheimer’s research. Humpback whale populations and giant pandas make a comeback. Hundreds of pagers explode in a street market.

The fear kicks up again. I keep my head down. I get over my writer’s block, I confront my fears, I box. I ask chatgpt for the answers to my questions, and in response, it gives me…. everything.

I learn about terms like “hyperobjects,” things that are massively distributed in time and space relative to humans, like plastic and the Internet. I listen to a new podcast that’s out this week, called Question Everything, about one of my favorite radio producers, Brian Reed, questioning how journalism’s doing. I find writers like Caitlin Johnstone, who likens being born in western civilization to waking up in a massive lynch mob you have to go along with.

I stay on my toes. I try and find new places to get my news, but the sites look like they’re out of 2006.

The seven horses thunder on. I carry on, too.

Does everyone feel a little insane? I know it’s not just me. But it also doesn’t seem to be everyone else, either.

I am not happy, nor sad, but a little bit of both. I’m afraid that this is actually my favorite emotion.

Office decor becomes a talisman against chaos. The billiards hall holds secrets. Time collapses into itself — ancient stories, breaking news, and local reporting all here in my living room. We change, imperceptibly, with each passing moment. The horses don’t wait for us to catch our breath.

We ride. We hide in what we write. We spend time with friends we love, celebrating birthdays and baby showers, and we miss the ones who aren’t around.

We train for invisible fights. We give ourselves permission to acknowledge the struggle and darkness, in the world and in each of us. We give ourselves chances to do things over again. We put the horses up in the right room, and we keep our eyes peeled for signs of perseverance and nudges to grow.

To another day,

Laura