at last, a tale of finding

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

first comes the fall.

then, the painful yielding.

then, the rebellion.

and then, at last, a scream of rage marking the surrender to acceptance.

and so it begins.

the slow stirring from numbness, as you start to touch the walls of the darkness. first with trembling hands. then with a thought. and another. and then with slowly a word. and another.

until the walls that are not walls start to fade. and the darkness that is not darkness starts to fade. and you see yourself impossibly whole, looking into a mirror of much light.

and you observe the many things missing and incomplete in you. and you are glad, so glad of all this imperfection. because perfection, as beautiful as it may be, is not life. perfect things exist only in heaven.

but you, you breathe. you, you are still here, alive, still a guest of experience, of change and failure and unknowing and discovery.

you, you are still here, to soar and fall. and break. and forgive. and restore. and feel.

and any path of true healing is one of finding. all this. and more than all this.

as you progress, inevitably, you will stumble onto anger and soul crushing sadness that will take your breath away. inevitably, you will stumble onto judgment and unforgiveness and guilt that will burn your soul and your dearest memories with tongues of bitter fire.

and inevitably, as you rise into a peaceful lightness of heart, you will hit that most difficult of trials: the trial of tenderness.

here is the magic.

because at the end of unlove, and at the beginning of your freedom and redemption, you will find only love.

and it is not a cluttered love, or a complicated love. or a fearful love.

it is just love.

boundless as love is. full of joy and laughter and song. sappy, quiet, full of everythingness.

cradling only what counts: the true memory of all that is inexplicably, exasperatingly, impossibly dear in something or someone.

it is all-seeing love which sees the true potential and beautiful unknowing in the something or someone you have allowed it to touch.

this is the moment of true healing. the beginning. the finding.

and, unless you see your courage grow the more it is crushed by lingering shadows…

and, unless you witness yourself weaving a path with grace and trust forged from the strength of your very fear…

you have only reached a lukewarm soothing. a rest stop.

don’t loose faith. keep going. the finding is there, just ahead.

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