Holding On

Sometimes the capacity to imagine a future that has yet to become reality is both a blessing and a curse.  Nonetheless I am glad that my personality is hard-wired with such a skill.  I came across the picture below and was left spellbound by the inherent message contained in it.

It looks as if the tree with its overstretched limbs will give way at any moment and the tree will perish as it crashes to the rocks below.  No one could argue with that assessment; the picture clearly shows the stress and the exposed roots dangling beneath the tree with nowhere to go and nothing to hold on to.

Look closer – only the roots hanging from the bottom of the tree are withered and fading.  The roots hanging on, even if only by a thread, are darker and alive.  The tree has green leaves and its bark is still dark too.  Only the lower right part of the root system is decayed.

I see hope; I see healing; I see life.  I see a chance to survive.  This photograph says Hold On.

Ignited

Sometimes I find the most compelling truth in the lines of random text:

“One day, whether you are 14, 28 or 65, you will stumble upon someone who will start a fire in you that cannot die.  However, the saddest, most awful truth you will ever come to find––is they are not always with whom we spend our lives.”

I suppose the mistake I made was assuming that one with such a profound influence on me would remain present for awhile and continue to fan this wondrous flame that he ignited.  Unfortunately it turns out that this was not the case.  At first, his disappearance was painful and I felt it all the way down to my bones.  I ached from the relentless, deep, dark, dampening pain.  But when the disorienting fog of rejection finally dissipated the warmth from the flame remained.

I was stunned to find the fire he started was still there.  The flames weren't the same life-affirming spectacular flames that danced across my path as before, but were more like flickering embers that tiptoed in my shadow whispering, "I'm still here." Those flickering embers were here to stay; their soothing comfort provided a steady tender quiet glow.
     
Maybe my path was not meant to be illuminated by the unending flash of intense fire; perhaps the momentary blaze was meant as just a match to stir the embers, clear away the suffocating ash and stoke the fire that was already there.