Self Reflection… is there anymore an odious concept to which one can prescribe to doing, but in reality are more deceptive to ourselves about and even more so to others. Oh we will espouse our courageous journeys undertaken through its means, and then with scholarly countenance speak of how many our own virtues we discovered, like ancient treasures along the hallowed path of introspection we took.
What we almost never mention, it is what we really found, inside us.
No Self Reflection, is complete without a walk along the dark roads of us.
The place where we find our vices, failings, our petty grudges and lingering resentments, our spitefulness and self loathing, all lurking within us as they are in everyone else.
Then there is the avenues of our sufferings, wounds and scars, lamentations and regrets, this winding on and on, seeming to never end.
It is not for me to say that one cannot find themselves in the shimmering truth of what their own Mirror may show, It is just so very few, even at times myself, will truly own all of what is there before them.
Everyone experiences Pain, and at some point, should it not consume us, and in that consumption leave behind a husk of anger and bitter regret, we will most often sentimentalize what has become of us having staved off pain’s hungry efforts upon us.
The bizarre irony, that we seem almost euphoric, to proclaim as loudly as possible, we have been hurt, how much, by what and whom, and that we are still here , and we can now regale any and all with our stories of woe, our elaborate Tales of suffering.
All the while forgetting, what is most important, that those who are still hurting, whom pain is still slowly grinding into grist, or carving away at with some opulent blade as it feeds amidst royal splendor, while its victim abides in desperate squalor.
If you are hurting it can be hard to see the hurt of another, but if you are merely celebrating the memory of a wound, and paying no heed to another, you are likely to just create another wound someplace else in your revelry.
Help the hurting, even if your hurting, sometimes that’s the only way the everyone can heal. If you are lucky enough to have healed from any pain, you know then how precious a gift that can be.
To feel is the tie that binds us to the world. Mankind does not have exclusivity on Emotions, for the whole of the world that lives has feelings of one type or another. Yet it is only man that levies a value on it, and only man whom may labor to craft it and make it meaningless all at once.
We play with them like toys, twist them, for suffering and gain. We can also wield them like weapons, wear them like armor; cutting another to the soul in depth, or shielding us and others as a impenetrable force.
The truth is, Emotions are mans greatest asset.. and most devastating means.
Yet with each of us, there is fact that if embraced, we can live and be at peace with ourselves, and perhaps the world we share.
Our emotions belong to us.
Each and everyone of us.. all are the sole guardian and absolute master of how we feel.
Fear, Guilt, Happiness, Regret, Lust, Mercy, Vengeance, Humility, Shame, Pride, Joy, Hope…. Love………… the list is endless
Every emotion .. we may ever know.. ever feel.. was always ours to decide.
What power it gives us, we create… and when another wields them upon us, it is because we have surrendered their stewardship to them.
We decide what we feel, and what we will be made to feel.
And whatever it is you want to feel.. whenever you would feel it.. whomever you wish to feel it with.. can happen as we want when we truly realize who decides the feelings themselves
They are decided by whom to which they Belong.
I consider myself a wielder of truth, not because I am its servant, its protector, or its slave. I say this because it is something that through me has become weaponized.
Do not mistake for a moment, that in this somber revelation, I am see it as a moment to regale as if some great boon has befallen me. Far from it.
For me its the assassins blade, the huntsmen’s bow, the executioners axe. I can no more avoid it as shore bound rocks can the breaking tide.
You think, that I may be in a fit of self aggrandizing drama to speak in such a bellicose, but absolutist way.
You would be In Err.
I see the truth regardless, if am I looking, denying, begging that be hidden, fearful that upon its reveal of its outright destruction of me.
The truth is I always see it, for what it is, and so often that weapon leaves its wounds all over, most often only me.
As our days roll by and years come along to give count to them, we will so often leave pieces of us amidst their gathering.
Sometimes it’s a quaint remembrance.. a day in a life marked to measure the coming and going of friends, and we think of what we were, and what it has made us in the end.
Sometimes it’s a recollection sullen and cold.. a time when we lost precious innocence or had love stolen, or promises lost.
Then there are times when we cast aside our misgivings… or shed pride or selfishness… and better is made the remains…
Those times most harsh… when a part of us is taken… as we lose all of someone whom for us was everything.
Yet as all the pieces lay scattered in our days, when we at last see them and know, despite how many, how often, or how hard… the fragments of us that we leave along life’s wayside, is that which we must leave behind… so we can learn… to be whole
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