Sometimes, despite everyone’s best intentions, an irrevocable wound has been inflicted, a stain has set, and what once was pure and innocent is now damaged. It’s not as if apologies can’t be made, or cleaning or repair can’t be done. Its just that some things ruin what would have been, and the victim is never quite the same.
This is a hard truth to swallow. My latest bout of optimism has taken a blow. Truth is often a bitter pill. But at least it’s not like the poison of a lie.
While I’m still swallowing, some balm emerges, the sugar to help the medicine go down:
Living beings are resilient
We have damage in common with others
Deeper meaning often emerges from pain
The oyster knows how to make a pearl, and it doesn’t even have a brain or a heart
Few of us live very long before smacking into this wall. Perhaps that’s what is meant by the term ‘growing old’.