What people are looking for, have been looking for since forever, is a way to cope with everyday life. The books, the music, the films, creativity and deeper thought- it’s just a bunch of people trying to make sense of the simplest of things: the moments. The minutes within the hour, within the day that’s good or bad, within the week that’s either amazing or awful, within the month that’s buried deep or on a constant rewind, within the year that you wish you could change, re-live or never have experienced. Because, at the end, whether you believe you’ve had it good or bad it doesn’t t really matter, when you are in this moment, right here,and you don’t really know what to do with yourself.
Slowly but suddenly, I felt a part of me breaking away, breaking free of the tendons that held it in place, and separating itself from my body. Not completely; it was still attached but, in a beautiful way, it was also free.
A part of me-a single, brave part of me-was blooming. My first petal unfolding.
“What are you doing?” I cried out. “Can’t you see where we are? Can’t you feel the dryness of the desert? The hopelessness of this unending wilderness?”
But it kept blooming.
This little piece of faith untangled itself from my doubt and started growing, becoming.
Sure, I was afraid…but I had to learn that there is no fear in Love; I had to learn that the blooming takes place in the desert, not after it.