Theme: We are storytelling creatures
Core Idea: We don’t live in facts. We live in stories. But our stories must evolve, or they become cages. We must learn to tell new ones together.
Grendel Revisited
Let’s revisit an old Viking lodge—the flicker of firelight, the warmth of mead, the songs of shared identity. And in the cold beyond the walls: Grendel. Not just a monster, but an outcast. Born of Cain, exiled from joy, driven mad not by cruelty—but by absence.
We made him.
With every act of unthinking banishment, every cruel dismissal, every wall built from fear and “us vs. them” rhetoric—we craft our own Grendels. And still we act surprised when the monsters come home.
How many are we creating?
Millions disengaged from civic life.
Tens of millions more consumed by conspiracy, rage, alienation.
A nation where more than half say they no longer trust democracy, or each other.
Grendel thrives not in the dark—but in our silence, our indifference, our rejection.
The Promise We Break
There is a promise of greatness. Of shared purpose. Of freedom and dignity for all.
That promise now flickers like a half-remembered myth. Smothered by:
Bigotry
Fear
Lies
We are witnesses to our own moral collapse—and we scroll on.
Who Is Our Champion?
In the old tale, it was Beowulf—strong, clear-eyed, willing to face the monster bare-handed.
But today? There is no single champion.
There is only us.
We who refuse the seduction of easy answers.
We who will not trade conscience for party.
We who ask: what is the metaphorical arm that must be torn off to break the monster’s grip?
Is it our addiction to outrage? Our loyalty to labels? Our fear of complexity?
We may crave the simple “kick in the groin” to wake us—but awakening rarely comes with a single jolt. It comes with questions.
The Party-Line Cage
I have a friend who votes the party line.
Not because he believes it. Because it’s easier.
"Just look for the D or the R. Check the box. Who was that anyway?"
That’s not citizenship. That’s a cage. And the train it’s riding is headed straight for the cliff.
The cage isn’t made of bars. It’s built from division, convenience, and disengagement.
And the only way out is to reclaim our minds.
Reclaiming the Story
What if we imagined the “others” not as enemies—but as neighbors?
In the same room.
Children playing together.
Laughter in the background.
What if we allowed ourselves to speak—to think—not in labels, but in shared humanity?
Query me this, o reader…
Could you find, even for a moment, a little room inside the cage of your mind?
Could you begin the conversation of healing?
Because that is where the story begins again.
Not with blame. Not with noise.
But with presence.
This is Us.
—Jimmy Skovgard
This Is Us
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