Friday, November 2, 2012


The journey is far more important than the destination.

For a long time, I've been obsessed with goals, with meeting expectations and proving to people my worth. This year, these obsessions have slowly begun to peel off. Underneath the peels lay a soul that is stirring and filled with mystery. This is the real me.

Growing up, there was always an imaginary world in my head, a possibility of something and someone better, a craving to exist somewhere else, and be someone else.  Honestly, this detachment often made living easier, but it also made me view my reality as inferior and something ugly. It wasn't ugly. It was truth, with all of its imperfections, simple wonders, chaos and confusion. It was something I needed to face. I coped with it, but I didn't truly face it. Even now, facing reality is difficult.

Still, the goal of a "something better" is peeling off. "Something is" is now taking its place, and I like this something. I appreciate the person that I am, and see its place in a society I still feel detached from. Perhaps, hopefully, inclusion will come. For now, the true self in me is coming to light. I am looking at it, and it is vulnerable and strong, wonderful and imperfect. It has a role here, in the here and now. It is still unfolding, and I appreciate the privilege of observing it. I cherish the "aha!" moments.

May I forever keep this childlike wonder. May I never be grown, but always growing.

This appreciation for growth is inextricably linked to the things I create. I am amazed at seeing my hands slowly form something. If I see progress, no matter how small,  I can wait for it to fulfill itself. I have faith that it will fulfill itself, and this fulfillment leads to my own fulfillment.

Perhaps this is a little of what parenting is like, or what it should be like; an eternal patience. An understanding that the frustrated, little being in front of you is so beautifully unaware of itself, but yet is such a movement, such a force. Love had no meaning until this magical creation came and defined it. From now on, you are Mother or Father. You are redefined, never to be the same.

I wonder if this is what God, The Mystery felt when he and she created the world. I wonder if there was a moment when they suddenly became overwhelmed at the revelation that they would never be the same. They were now Creators, and the old things were now passed away. These small, fragile, erratic things they made now defined them, and thus an interdependence was born. The universe's first true circle, perhaps?

Creation is spiritual, no matter what it is that you are creating. In it lies the mystery of possibility, and possibility is where The Mystery dwells. Have faith that it's imperfect perfection will make itself known, and that you, the real you, will see it and never be the same.

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