“Every day we slaughter our finest impulses. That is why we get a heartache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty. Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. there is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to discover what is already there.” — Henry Miller
I sat upon the backyard swing this morning sipping my coffee while listening to birdsong and inhaling the lovely scent of irises wafting in the breeze. I allowed the blessings of the morning to settle in my bones.
I have been gifted a glorious life. I don’t take it for granted; however, I admit I do not live my life to its fullest potential. Perhaps at times, I am lazy. More so, I forget that in not doing so I am denying my Creator. There are times I must step up to the plate. I must acknowledge my talents by the simple gratitude of trusting in them.
I think at times I confuse confidence with arrogance. I also fear failure, but truly failure is only a stepping stone of experience. Experience provides growth. Growth leads to wisdom. At the root of wisdom is authenticity. And authenticity is where is all begins. It is where passion lives.
Synchronicity shows me when I am on the right path. The signs are everywhere, in snippets of conversations, dreams, and the simple nature of life around me. Who am I to judge myself?