Why is it so hard to leave the old behind, even when we know, that we are leaving for the better? Even when we know that the path that’s calling us, is the one that we’ve been praying for all along. At last, the prayers have been heard, and here it is, just around the corner, now it is time to embark on it and step beyond that corner, knowing that the path behind will vanish just like sand hills in a wind.
We know. And yet it is hurting in the heart. Why is it so hard to let go of what has brought pain? Maybe because precious moments bled into painful ones, making us believe that the rose’s beauty is only witnessed if we are in the midst of thorny bushes? Will our green friends, the witnesses and counselors of our sorrows, continue to console us? The soothing touch of mossy trees after a sleepless night, the caress of the wind striking wet cheeks, the reassuring comfort of colorful flowers, reminding us of life’s manifold possibilities. My psyche attaches the moments of life’s emerald, to the woundy thorn traces. As if I can only enjoy the rose’s beauty if I grip tightly into its stem. Let go, sweety, I hear. It’s time, my ancestors whisper.
What a life, life is. Shore ahead. Please ahead. Let’s go. The trees are calling. Go to the forest. The forest is no roses, the forest in no thorns, the forest is no this, the forest is no that. The forest is more, an ever-unfolding happening. Winds shaking leaves, raindrops moisturizing mosses, trees dancing with birds, flowers reaching to neighbors, microbes having dinner with their fellas, bugs traveling on breathing bodies, colors emerging in the light, sunshine threading through shades, hair standing up on the neck, heart beating in an orchestra of heartbeats.
May the winds wing us with the tiny nudge of courage for the road ahead,
Love <3