Inside Out

How many of us now have so opened the door of our minds that we live comfortably with one individual and two lives. In my case, extremely separate yet completely one. Just the other day I was writing an email at the office and found at the end I signed Lauren Weyland. I was amazed that I had nearly pressed send. Instead of fear I was more shocked since seeing my SecondLife name on a FirstLife email did not seem incongruous to me. Oh yes, I am sure the receiver would probably have 'googled' me and then what most people would think of being an unraveling would simply be a curtain drawn from downstage center to upstage center to bring the entire stage front and center.

In times past we would probably been considered 'schizophrenic.' Perhaps the creators of SecondLife were in need of place where schizophrenia could flourish. And so, millions entered a world where we belonged but didn't exist before. Instead, in order to vanilla the planet, for tens of thousands of years, we either kept our thoughts private or suffered the consequences.

Let me interject something here. Although most in the group I will mention now mentally were forced to reside in a tight parameter (for convention sake), women throughout the centuries have still had to either keep their av quiet or suffer the consequences of announcing there is more to them then the parameters set by men and enforced by coerced rules that other women embraced because they needed the limitations those rules defined.

I wonder where the world would be today if the women whose av's had not been inhibited but instead opened as much as the minds of Galileo, Einstein, DaVinci, Plato, Aristotle etc? Where are their thoughts if they had had the same opportunities? I am talking about those who were not forceful enough to break a mold but still were mentally able to have increased the knowledge of the world by a factor of limitless.

So, as I look at us, I wonder what could we have provided if our thoughts had not been considered wild but instead exhalted. And then I stop, realize we are here now. Hope, the fragility of what create does not evaporate. Wonder, what will they say fifty years, five hundred years from now about us. And how will we smile when the voices that recognize us were the same as those who pitied us before.