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Love and Acceptance Through the Years...

Moving through the sky, clouds whisking by, I'm attempting to grab hold of each one as I swiftly fall, yet my hands pass right through. No matter how solid they appear, how wide or long, I repeatedly experience the same dreaded effect...fear, then sadness, then disappointment. I look toward each miniscule drop of moisture as if it were my sole provider of life, then continue my descent only to search again and again for a solid, life-saving connection.

As I approach the side of a steep cliff I consider grabbing hold of it and hope a boulder might jut out enough for a semi-safe landing. I know I will likely be physically harmed if I find one, yet know that if it is solid ground I may reach...I'm lucky. I begin to grasp the tips of roots and tree limbs protruding out of the side of this magnificent precipice only to find them to be flimsy at best, but I am encouraged as they are real. I wonder how they even exist up here so high with what looks to be no sustenance. They wonder the same about me. They are weak and brittle. My hands are cut and I am bleeding.

As I fall further the limbs begin to feel stronger, they are breaking as I grasp them but I can tell I am coming nearer to a water source as they become more flexible, healthy, and reliable. I am decelerating now as the branches are supporting my weight, not fully, but enough to give me a small bit of hope that I might reach a safe place and take a breath, a deep peaceful breath, soon.

I see flat surfaces below me along the side of the steep hillside and know that is where I must go. Though beaten and bruised, oozing and scarred, I prefer that reality to the empty, uncertain one, falling forever and grasping for something non-existent, disregarding and powerless. The earth may be harsh, honest and even frightening at times but at least it exists...at least I can touch it, feel it, smell it and know it is alive. And I see it approaching.

BAM! I've landed. I am hurt, broken in fact, but I feel the need to just sit and breathe, loosen my tense muscles and bask in the knowledge that I am now able to BEGIN. I know that sitting still with my open lacerations infused with grime is not the wisest decision, but I stop myself from worrying, knowing that just a few feet away, though I must climb down to reach it, is a precious stream of water...water that will expose my wounds and heal them, nurture my body, drench my thirst and cleanse my soul. The water appears turbulent at times and I must say it frightens me, but it is alive...it is constant and it is available. Though it flows, it is tangible. I will learn to trust it. I will learn to ride its waves and currents. I will savor in its stillness and find refuge within its ever-changing yet steady existence, just as it will flow through, around and over me as I change, and heal, and trust and accept. Mostly I will cherish it. My journey to find this treasure was a long and agonizing one...though it whispers, "I was with you all along".

Learn more about this author, Brandy Nightingale.
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