The lotus generally grows in mud or mirky waters but it always flowers fresh each day. Perhaps all the pyscho-babbling-spiritual-mumbo-seeking-reaching-efforts to transform aren't necessary. Perhaps, we can just surrender, knowing that there is mud and there's always going to be mud. Life is as it is. And still we bloom.
When everything looks bleak and the darkness cramps against the cold, it takes courage to simply look out from imagined isolation toward the wide horizon of beauty available in every moment. It takes courage to lean into the sea of life and trust the tide. When weary limbs no longer support us, it takes courage to trust our inner buoyancy and float. It takes courage, in the face of darkness, to remember the light and sit in all our apparent blindness and listen, silently, to the still, small whisper within. It takes courage, in that dark hour, when nothing else remains. Eyes closed. Eyes opened. A glimpse, a memory, a fleeting vision of a light so bright it blurs the borders of things seen and things perceived into a comprehensive wholeness of being. It takes courage.
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