In these dark times in which all is frustrated yet lumbering on, it may become difficult to justify one's continual standing as oneself, in occupying some position, and not simply lie down and allow oblivion to take over. After all this does appear to be the tendency. It feels quite exhausting to continue to stand. Why bother at all?
There is an old belief - no idea where it comes from at this point - that suggests that in difficult times one has no other choice but to figure one's stance, one's position of strength, and hold it no matter the circumstances. This alone often leads to better outcomes, as in the end one seeks to preserve what one is and what one should be, which implies one's social relations and surroundings as well, and one's stance represents a distillation of this.
One's face, one's visage, appears grim in the winter light, and the harsh arctic blasts wear down warm, generous flesh to bare bone. But one adopts a stance, and continues to stand - perhaps absurdly - because one must. Because one was made to do so.
