Growing up in the city, fire escapes created a visual imprint. As an apartment dweller, I climbed stairs to rise to a higher level. There I would rest, breathing in the view and assessing the stars.
Eventually, inner fire singed my comfort zone, and I would ascend yet again. With each flight, I grew more aware of the necessity to create happiness, as life was never going to be perfect. I allowed tears to cleanse my perspectives and continued to gaze upwards.
Pain of climbing, never reaching the top, taught me patience with what unfolded and tolerance for uncertainty. New beginnings in spite of the unknown, helped me to love life just as it was ... imperfect levels of ascension.
No comments:
Post a Comment