We fight it constantly, but the meaning of life waits beyond all our plans and under all our desires; waiting for us to lose our maps and crack our hard shells open so that the light within can join with the light without.
THE FESTIVAL OF LIFE
What if the heart cracks like a seed,
needing to be opened to grow? Then
how do we understand what comes
pouring out? Does pain turn into a
small root? Does grief if watered start
to break ground? It does no good to tell
someone broken that they will become a
flower. No one believes this while lost in
the dark, anymore than creatures of the
night can believe that there’s a festival
of life making up the day. But this is
the work of faith, the faith that moves
like song and blood beneath our wounds:
to believe that we are more than what is
done to us. It’s true. I’ve lost everything
more than once, each a devastation. Yet
each in time grew me into who I was to
be. I can’t explain or offer conclusions.
Just know that we’re surprised into being.
Like divers who open the treasure just
as they’re running out of air, we’re
forced to let go of what we want
in order to live another day.
A Question to Walk With: Describe a time when you were close to what you wanted, only to have to put it down or walk away in order to take good care of yourself.