Human renewal comes through the shadow chains of the past
By hard work.
We drag those chains for days or decades,
broken and beaten and
often without knowledge about them.
Renewal comes as the laughter after grief
In the surprise of understanding.
It is neither the naiveté of the child
Nor the brazen veneer we exhibit,
as if it were truth,
But the wisdom of an authentic life.
Rarely is there a straight line to such discovery.
Rather the path is strewn with rocks and weeds
like an unkempt garden
Or a Himalayan hike
In air so thin,
you gasp for breath-
With a route so perilous,
A fall so easy
and so long–
down that mountain without railings,
Bouncing against the scree
That you may have to stop
and wait.
The Inn of the soul can be found on any path.
Pause there.
Please.
Human renewal has no timetable.
It is not predestined like the ritual of the seasons,
Where no matter how long winter clings to life with icy fingers,
Tenacious and defiant,
Like a small child refusing to leave a party,
Spring will come.
Renewal does not entertain deception.
It is a choice.
It is to see the shadows and face them.
