They tell you to eat broccoli because “broccoli is good for you” because they think they know because someone told them because they read it in a book. But, maybe it’s not good for You. Maybe it’s good for them. Maybe for you it makes you feel as though you ate a rubber tire that won’t stop turning when it reaches your belly. Maybe for you peanut butter on pita is what you need (even though there’s no vitamin A). Maybe you need to hurt and toil many times to heal the wounds and actions of a million lifetimes before. Maybe pain is your way to truth. We all long to be swallowed by love. In that, there is no difference. How we arrive, stripped bare, unashamed of our imperfections – for each this path is different. And don’t be mistaken. Never think for a moment that what you see is all that there is. When the man orders his pastrami on rye and the man behind the counter makes it, a hundred songs are song, if you are really listening. When the woman who drives your bus calls out your stop, listen to the timber of her voice. You will hear a symphony in what she doesn’t say. There is a gentle sorrow in all of us. Now is now and can’t be held. It whispers gently, inviting us to be here. With this person. This sidewalk crack. Don’t doubt; especially don’t doubt the doubt. It’s all here to cradle us in the way we need in order to drop that which we aren’t. Walk your path the way your feet want to take you. It’s better to fall into ditches striving for truth than to stay in your cave eating a bowl of steamed broccoli that you don’t even like.
“Your vision will become clear only when you look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.” – Carl Jung