To ponder all the things and
people we move from, outgrow or replace. We spackle nail holes to hide where
pictures and objects once were visible and had significance. We donate clothes
that caught our attention in the store, adorned us for special occasions or
perhaps hold memories of simply growing. We move from a home that made our
hearts gasp the first time we entered and saw all the possibilities or even
simply a place to feel safe. Or to ponder all the things or people that have
left us, maybe or maybe not with spackling, re-gifting so others would enjoy,
or leaving us feeling safe or breathless with possibility.
The wise ones teach that change
any one and the “me” that writes this scrich would not be the same. Better or
worse? Who can say. Victor Frankl’s
experience in the holocaust concentration camps led him to observe between
every stimulus and response there is a space called choice. Remove but one of
the experiences and another choice would have opened that may possibly have
changed all others. As the Buddha said, everything and everyone is our teacher,
the grains of sands upon the path of choice.
To ponder all these grains of
sand overwhelms my little mind and heart. But to ponder the choice, that space
in between humbles me. In the humbling I am lifted by one thought…the gift of
choice. The power of choice. That the Sweet Hands of Life, the Universe, the
Creator of all would trust me with choice. To think of such love leaves my
heart with only one whisper…
I shall trust myself
for I am the Divine’s trust.
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