Today has been a scary day, so I want to console myself and maybe entertain you by sharing a story.
Last night, I was telling my husband about when I was in high school and read Heinlein's "Stranger in a Strange Land" the first time. I didn't really understand it until I read it again as an adult. At that time, I was just enchanted by how Valentine Michael Smith viewed water! Like I was on the edge of having a cosmic mystery revealed if I drank and bathed enough!
So...
And we really believed we loved each other! We were brothers and sisters, and any disagreement could be resolved. Because we all drank from the water together. So we were one entity made of multiple people.
My husband asked me at what point did I realize I had started a cult? "A few minutes ago, while I'm telling you about it. But you've read the book! That's weirdly fitting!"
And we laughed.
But I'm thinking about it tonight. Maybe, for a little more than a year, my high school friend group got as close as we could at that time to understanding community and unconditional love. It's silly...but also maybe not silly.
Maybe we need to learn how to share water and truly mean it when we say, "May you never thirst."
One summer coming home from college, I have a vivid memory of standing in our enormous front lawn. Hose in one hand watering a newly seeded grass. In the other hand was a copy of Analog. I was reading the very first serialized version of Dune, by Herbert.
Dumping gallons of water, and imagining myself in a stillsuit.
@corlin My husband is a big "Dune" fan (that's how my sand boa ended up with the name Shai-Hulud), and we've had so many conversations that start with me asking a question about the deeper meanings of things in the story. He tells me I should just read the books. I think I'll start with the Brian Herbert trilogy that gives backstory.
@weirdfizz Thank you for the wonderfully written story. Loved it.
I got my friends to read it. And you had to read it if you were coming into our friend group. We didn't meet up at each other's lockers. We agreed to meet up at water fountains. There was always a glass of water when we had lunch together. If someone wanted to drink from it, someone else held it for them and told them, "May you never thirst." We did it at water fountains, too. Someone else held the button and tood you, "May you never thirst," while you drank.