Last night, I came to a frightening realization. In my continued atempt to explore the deepest regions of my soul; to find a way to release my true emotions, I found something...unexpected. Something I had seen before but smaller. Something that does not belong there. I found anger; hatred. Feelings I did not know I was capable of (or perhaps I did not wish to think I was). Obviously, I have felt anger in the past, but never this strongly. It never caused my eyes to glaze and my blood to boil. No, this was something I had never seen before. And, in all honesty, it terrified me to tears. If the soul is a garden, then emotions are the fruit of our labor (or lack thereof). When nurtured, the soul produces bountiful and pleasing fruit; joy, contentment, tranquility. If the garden is forgotten and neglected, however, the fruit is very much different. You find the plants dead or dying at best. Leaves long turned brown, the fruit long since shrivled, the thin stalks unable to bare their burdens and bow sorrowfully. But one thing does thrive in such an enviroment. One thing requires abandonment to grow. I speak of thorns. The weeds that choke the life out of everything beautiful. These weeds are malice, hatred, and anger. A good gardener will spot these evils when the first begin to sprout, before they cause any damage. But the gardener who lives in a willful state of ignorance, turns a blind eye to these young growths, discarding them as nothing more than a nusence, thinking the problem will solve itself. This, unfortunantly, never happens. Eventually more sprouts form and begin feeding off the healthy plants, draining them of all life. The gardener sees the plants begin to wither, but still does nothing. What is he afraid of? After all, every garden gets the occational weed. Ignorance, it seems, is not always bliss. I once read a quote by Max Lucado, "If pride comes before a fall, then shame is what keeps you down". How profound a statement! The weeds begin to grow into a thicket. Vines intertwined and connected, growing daggers for thorns. The gardener sees this, and becomes ashamed. How could he have been so foolish? How could he have been so blind? The answer is simple. He wanted to be. Maybe this was not a conscious thing, but it was a choice he made. So, I beg of you, tend your garden. Till the ground and water the soil. Nurture you plants. Do not be like the gardener...do not be like me...
Last night, I came to a frightening realization. In my continued atempt to explore the deepest regions of my soul; to find a way to release my true emotions, I found something...unexpected. Something I had seen before but smaller. Something that does not belong there. I found anger; hatred. Feelings I did not know I was capable of (or perhaps I did not wish to think I was). Obviously, I have felt anger in the past, but never this strongly. It never caused my eyes to glaze and my blood to boil. No, this was something I had never seen before. And, in all honesty, it terrified me to tears. If the soul is a garden, then emotions are the fruit of our labor (or lack thereof). When nurtured, the soul produces bountiful and pleasing fruit; joy, contentment, tranquility. If the garden is forgotten and neglected, however, the fruit is very much different. You find the plants dead or dying at best. Leaves long turned brown, the fruit long since shrivled, the thin stalks unable to bare their burdens and bow sorrowfully. But one thing does thrive in such an enviroment. One thing requires abandonment to grow. I speak of thorns. The weeds that choke the life out of everything beautiful. These weeds are malice, hatred, and anger. A good gardener will spot these evils when the first begin to sprout, before they cause any damage. But the gardener who lives in a willful state of ignorance, turns a blind eye to these young growths, discarding them as nothing more than a nusence, thinking the problem will solve itself. This, unfortunantly, never happens. Eventually more sprouts form and begin feeding off the healthy plants, draining them of all life. The gardener sees the plants begin to wither, but still does nothing. What is he afraid of? After all, every garden gets the occational weed. Ignorance, it seems, is not always bliss. I once read a quote by Max Lucado, "If pride comes before a fall, then shame is what keeps you down". How profound a statement! The weeds begin to grow into a thicket. Vines intertwined and connected, growing daggers for thorns. The gardener sees this, and becomes ashamed. How could he have been so foolish? How could he have been so blind? The answer is simple. He wanted to be. Maybe this was not a conscious thing, but it was a choice he made. So, I beg of you, tend your garden. Till the ground and water the soil. Nurture you plants. Do not be like the gardener...do not be like me...