18.07.XXXX
My Love
The harshness of nature
is more apparent now, after the initial wonder has somewhat subsided.
When the sun hides behind the clouds, the temperature drops
drastically, and even with our warm clothes, the cold creeps into our
limbs. The rain dampens our spirits. Our bodies long for the warmth
of the fireplace. And for yours, my Love. But when we see the herds
of reindeer walk past, when the never-setting sun rains its sweet
rays on us, when a startled snow-hen runs from its hiding place
clucking madly, we know we shall have no regrets.
That which is easy has
no merits. Only when we feel pain can we feel pleasure. Only through
hardships can we shed the cold shell of sophistry and find ourselves.
Once everything has been taken from us, and even the simplest things
are no longer granted, once we realize our own weakness, our own
helplessness, and accept it, we can start to feel the warmth that
dwells in all of us.
Only the weak seek
strength. Only the strong dare to be weak. Those who close themselves
to the world, fearing to be hurt, shall spend their life in pain. But
those who open their hearts, those who invite in everything, the pain
and the pleasure, the joy and the sadness, without judgement, those
can never be hurt. Without shadows, there can be no light.
Out here, in the high
mountains and the low valleys, nothing is bad. Pain is but a prelude
to relief. The mundane squabbles of civilized society loose their
meaning. Only life remains.
W.
Aucun commentaire:
Enregistrer un commentaire