I've been here nearly 6 months and the ups have come with downs, much as is the constant in life.
I've continued to hold the light within for I no longer see it on most days. I know it's there, but lacking its physical presence is somehow taxing in a way I couldn't have foreseen. The light is there just beyond my reach, but when needed, I would like it to peer at me and stare at me with the same optimism I share with it.
As I sat on this plane ride I really became aware just how poignant this ride would be, under random circumstances I was on a trip I had never even considered. Going to console a person I love, while she deals with the hurt in her own life.
The plane begins to take off and my surroundings look as they have been, unclear.
With a thunderous roar the engine starts, the rumbling begins and we're off. I look out the window and observe the mist cascade the wings of the plane, every rumble inches us forward to the clarity.
In a split second, like the rising of the ocean tides, a flash of light glimmers through the small plane window and the sun silences the engines, we're present in its excellence.
It is then that I realize this abysmal state is but a facade. An illusion playing a clever trick to the untrained eye, oh but I have been trained.
I now see it as clear as I ever could. These states are temporary, the circumstances as well. Even when things appear unclear, the light will awaken and reinvigorate the path.