Mother Nature has always been a gracious host.
Inviting me into her confines, where I am compelled to learn at her feet.
In today’s lesson I realized…
Whenever I’ve come full circle with the reality of what I’ve always known to be true – instead of taking the revelation head on. I chose the path of cowardice – tucking it away in the recesses of my mind, hoping that it will fade away into oblivion.
Sadly, it never does.
More often than not, it comes back with a vengeance.
That being said – the question must be asked:
Am I really being true to myself?
Taking it a step further, is it fair to say that if I’m unable to tell the hard truths to myself, then who can I speak truth to?
The older that I get.
The more I come to terms with the sobering realization.
That I didn’t know as much as the earlier incarnations of myself were so unshakably certain of.
In short, I take solace in the fact that there is wisdom in acknowledging the certainty of uncertainty.
There is so much to be gained from the edification of our own fickleness.
Accepting it and taking it head on.
Rather than running or making futile attempts to hide from it.
So, I often find myself walking in the relative solace of nature as a therapy of sorts.
Only to find myself staring back at the reflection in the water, not unlike the mythical Narcissus.
But instead of being enamored with my visage.
I find myself enchanted with the prospect of taming the dual elements of beauty and ugliness that reside within.
Because it is by acknowledging their existence that I can begin to plot my escape from the purgatory of stationary complacency and traverse that long winding road towards higher plateaus.
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