Let’s imagine for a moment your home is swept up in a tornado and it lands on a witch.
To get back home you follow the yellow-brick road. The longer you follow it, the more progress you make towards home. The occasional detour is fine, because what’s a life without some adventure and flying monkeys? A boring one, that’s what.
But if you take A LOT of detours, eventually, you stay on them and the detours begin to look like the main path, and the yellow-brick road becomes lost in the distance. We carry on traveling the detours, without noticing that over time, comfort, and company that we’ve mistaken the two.
How did being active and eating like we give a damn about ourselves become such a burden? It didn’t. It never did. Somewhere along the way as a society, a community, or even as an individual, we mistook the road we were on for being “normal” and the yellow-brick road became taboo.
The yellow-brick road looks a lot like a detour when we’ve been on a detour the whole time.
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If you had to name the road you were on, what would you name it?
The sugar-brick road? The recovery-brick road?
The progress-brick road?
