To The Weary And The Wary—The Journey Continues

A Blast From The Past

I decided to go looking through my earliest posts a little bit ago. The idea was to look at my original introduction post to see if I could glean anything from it for the initiative anomadsoul announced about introducing ourselves to HIVE and reintroducing ourselves to the community that has migrated here.

What I wrote back then was a little too coy, unfortunately. I didn't really introduce myself at all, so there's not much to reference. I plan to participate with a post still, I'll just have to think about it a little longer.

I continued to poke around, though, and came upon another post I titled, To The Weary And The Wary—A Western Allegory With A Steemian Twist. I remembered it immediately, not quite like it was yesterday, and not so much the words. It was more of the feelings it invoked then, and now.

I figured I would share it again, if that's not too much of a faux pas (considering that very few saw it then, and hardly any of them are still around).

I do so, because while I still feel much the same as I did when I originally wrote this, elements of those emotions are different now. STEEM was starting from scratch. HIVE is not. I'll let you read it, if you so choose, so you can see what I mean, then catch up to you with some additional commentary on the other side.

Reveal spoiler

A Glass Half Empty, A Glass Half Full

I am an indigent mid-19th century pioneer, who, for reasons known only to me (but with which you can no doubt relate) finds himself far from the comfort of hearth and home, upon the unforgiving plains of the American frontier, with nothing but well-worn and trail dusty clothes to call my own.

Here in my new but barren surroundings, amidst strangers who speak a language I do not quite grasp, I am steered to a parcel of crusty earth: a half acre of pitiful prairie sod. With nary more than a hearty clasp on my shoulder, a bittersweet smile, and a finger directed to the aforementioned ground, I am handed a sturdy stick and a few dozen seeds.

"'Tis yours," I am told. "Do with it what you will."

As I am left to my meager devices, I chance to look up at my new neighbors. They appear to have arrived not long before I have, possessing the same humble tools and sized plot of land.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, I feel a rush of gratitude come over me. This land, this stick, these seeds—they are wondrous gifts indeed!

This I revel in, although—so soon to my hands are they I am still not yet convinced they are truly mine—the only thing they all can reasonably assure me of is an immediate future of backbreaking toil in exchange for a semblance of immediate survival and the whisper of glory to come.

Notwithstanding, this uncertain way seems plagued by the specter of doubt and fear, if not inevitably condemned to a fate most foul.

But what else should I do? Go back from whence I came? How would that my plight improve? What's left? Move on? Where would I go?

In the end, I stay. While I will be at the full mercy and good graces of those who have decided to provide me with just enough to give me opportunity, it is still just that—opportunity. I also know I have done nothing to earn this. Why would they even give me anything? Surely there are more rewarding things my benefactor could do with land they so freely relinquished.

Still, here I stand, worthy of nothing but my own impetuous want, yet quickened by charity, brightened by hope, and instilled with a beggar's portion of faith.

And so I put my head down and go to work.

Now kind sirs and gentle ladies, I should explain fully my heart so it will not be misconstrued. Though I feel incredibly blessed, I am still utterly human.

I am aware that off in the distance, ere the horizon, there are amber fields being harvested by gleaming, STEEM driven machines. Closer, I can hear the bellowing of yoked oxen pulling a razor sharp plow. Nearest, the neighbors have now joined together to work each others land but all appear too busy to invite me thither.

In that moment, in my lack and lowly station, I could envy those in front of me, whose, by first glance, only observable merit for such fortune is that they blindly stumbled on this place some days, weeks, months ahead of me.

Oh, how I could wallow in my self-made quandary, cast blame's bitter net wide, even dare to thrust clinched fists heavenward and rend the air with a soul-wrenched hue and cry—

Is this all I am worth?!? Is this all I deserve?!?

But before I can descend into such ungrateful depths, to my vexed ears come the gasps of bewilderment and disbelief by others who abruptly materialize behind me.

"I'm so small," one says.

"I'm all alone," says another.

"Why can't anyone hear me?" wonders a third.

And all at once, a redeemed wretch, I am relieved of my misguided churlishness while filled beyond brow and brim with newfound purpose. With aching arm and calloused hand, I reach out...

In that nexus of darkness turned light, I am carried off in the whirlwind of time. Days blur and with them, my sentiments of unfounded envy dissipate into the unbridled effulgence of abundant bounty.

And it is there on the other side I pause and muse—

How trivial was I!

805 Days, 1 Hour, 3 Minutes Ago

I published that post on January 11, 2018. It was only my seventh post, but I believe it is still one of my all-time favorites.

Now, It's March 26, 2020

It's amazing how much has changed in 26 months. Equally amazing is how much is still the same. Or, how history has a way of repeating itself, after a fashion.

In the allegory, I was trying to tell others how grateful I was for the opportunity to be on STEEM, which at the time, was still very new and foreign to me. Not the concept of blogging, but the whole idea of a blockchain and cryptocurrency. The fact that money could be created out of thin air from whoever had the skill to do it, and then of course, get others to believe it held value, was mind boggling at first. Admittedly, the technology still is a mystery and a wonder to a degree, but I'm thankful to report I get the worth of crypto now, and that it's no different than the communal value we blindly give to fiat.

As I mentioned earlier, today I find myself in a similar situation as I did over two years ago. Only, things are improved this time around. My plot of land I have to work with on HIVE is not parched or unworked but entering its third season of watering and fertilizing, I have many more seeds and much better equipment to plant, cultivate and harvest with (though I think I'm still waiting for the gleaming machines others have acquired), and while I still am on my own to some degree to till the ground, I'm not so alone as I felt I was then, just two weeks into my journey.

Let's Be Real

At the time, I was also trying to rally others with this post, particularly my fellow plankton, to take heart. No one forced any of us to come to STEEM, and no one owed us anything. In fact, rather, they gave us a beautiful blockchain to post on, an adequate front end to work with (and more of them, even better perhaps, appeared over time), and the cost of all of that was nothing out of pocket. We didn't have to pay for the plots of land we were given, or to receive the seeds and tools we were given. All of that was provided for us.

So, how could we possibly complain? Because others who were there ahead of us were, well, ahead of us? Or because there abilities were better than ours? Or that it might take some of our own money to truly get anywhere?

I don't know. The more I think about those days, the more I realize that I had way too high expectations of what STEEM was and what I should be able to do with it out of the chute. Having come from other social media and had very little success there, I knew better. And I had to remind myself of that for quite a while before it finally sunk in.

That's not to say my 'envy' is totally gone. It creeps in here or there, and I have to say to myself, "You're not owed a thing." And if for some reason the playing field isn't equal, well, again, I didn't create it, and I've paid nothing for it to still exist. The time and toil I've put in so far can't compare to what quite a few here did to keep STEEM up and running, nor what they're doing now to try to make HIVE a success.

Recognition, Not Abdication

That doesn't mean I don't have a right to point out what I believe needs to be changed. I think I have that right as part of the community. What I don't feel like I have a right to is to condemn others who are doing the same thing, even if I do disagree with them.

There are many who are responsible for keeping HIVE afloat as currently constituted, and many others who will help move her along. If you want a glimpse at who those parties are, there's a post by justineh where quite a few are mentioned. While they have the equivalent of an unfinished house to work with (in whatever state you wish to think of it), that house will need repairs, additions, upgrades and other accoutrements that someone must bring to life with a knowledge and a know how I know I don't possess, and most likely never will, no matter how versed I become in blockchain magic.

I think we should keep all that in mind as we go along, especially if things get rocky. Not a free pass. Not a blank check. But a reality check of what our true contribution is here, some benefit of the doubt, and a firm grip on how trust works.

It is a two way street. If I want others to be trustworthy, I need to be trustworthy, too. I need to walk the talk.

HIVE is here. HIVE is now. Let's walk the talk.

Onward and upward.

_{Images source—Pixabay}