When we take a stand against something, we’re drawing a line in the sand. We’re saying “here is a line that we’re not willing to cross”.
It’s an appropriate metaphor, because the line is visible at the time we draw it, but it’s ephemeral. Once the situation passes and the context in which we made the stand is gone, then it’s as if the wind has blown our line away and the sand is smooth again.
Time isn’t the only threat to the line. It can also get trampled on and obscured by both ourselves and those we’re dealing with.
How many times have we drawn lines, only to jump, shuffle or stumble over them later?
The reality of the situation is that we need to be to keep drawing our lines for the rest of our lives. Because we want them to be visible.
They’re not meant to be a prison, a box we have to stand in. We don’t do this to separate ourselves off from the rest of the world, but to define a good space in it.
Our lines in the sand aren’t a prison, they’re a map.
We’re creating markers and waypoints that both ourselves and others can use to navigate. To plot a course that is safe, ethical and worthwhile.
“Here is good solid land, but here be dragons.”