We balance, we fall, and we find that we were, indeed, given wings, we just have to learn to trust them.
We each delight in aspirations of love, falling blindly about, this way and that way, in search of a hidden treasure, OUR hidden treasure. From the moment we are born, love is fondly equated as the sustenance of life, disguised as our mother’s “milk,” and a father’s acceptance. As we mature into adulthood these aptitudes are balanced ever so carefully on external ideals, teetering on tiny, pointy little ends of what love should be, sometimes carefully, most times carelessly; transferred to a world full of broken people, inept at ever truly knowing what love really is, or ever was. All the while we begin feeling more broken and empty with each new day.
We have been taught that love is out there, somewhere, living in a host of man-made, handmade relationships, friendships, boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, wives, and dare I say even our own children.
Only to wake up to the painful realization that since the beginning of time we have been deceived, not purposefully of course, but still deceived. People only know what they know, until they know something different. And knowing something different translates to the painstaking process of going in, the wiliness to learn about who we are. I mean really getting to know our selves, digging deep to the core of our soul.
Let’s ask ourselves, where does our joy and pain reside? It’s time to travel, let’s go back to those innermost nooks and crannies of pain and delight. There is so much to learn there; and then it begins, the learning and teaching, failing and learning, and failing, again, and again, and again.
Finally the lesson is learned, one day we realize we are flying on the wings of our essence, self-love, what we had been searching for all along.
Photo: Flickr/Dirk Duckhorn