Something's changed.
There was a time when challenge was expected. When rites of passage weren't symbolic—they were bloody, painful, disorienting. They stripped away the childish and made room for the adult. You emerged changed, capable of carrying weight.
What rites of passage are there now? I think of this now that I have kids. Much of what I read is cheesy, and I'm still at square one.
Now, we protect ourselves from that process. We construct safe spaces instead of sharpening stones. We tell people they're enough as they are—when maybe they need to be refined. Perhaps the pain isn't the problem. Maybe avoiding it is.
Then, when trauma happens, you are the bug on life's windshield.
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