It sounds like a parable, and I’m sure it was once. We learned it from Bluey, as a bedtime story being read to one of the kids. It goes like this; the queen has a walk, discovers the land is covered in prickles, and sets out to cover it in leather so she doesn’t hurt her feet.

The reset is a gentle suggestion, after the queen has nearly wrecked herself trying to change the world. What if she covered her feet, instead? 

She gives up on the loads and loads of leather and takes up two little pieces: she makes shoes.

I loved it when I heard it. The right solution for the right problem, the elegance of the reframe.

But sometimes the kingdom needs leather. I’ve taken to leaving tubes of plain Chapstick in almost every room of the house. One lives inside my wallet, tucked right in the zippered pouch with the cards and cash. There’s another rolling around in the center console in the car. And the cupholder of the treadmill. And the bedside. And by my toothbrush.

I wouldn’t carry one in my pocket—too warm, not the right climate. So I Chapstick my world, not my pocket.

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Writing prompt: Do you need shoes or does the world need Chapstick?

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