Silence. Prayer. Strength. Self.

Hello again. Welcome to another edition of life through the eyes of a wild child. That being me of course. Of late, I have been in a reflective mood. We cannot get better until we confront our shortcomings. Not to engage in bitterness and grudges, but to encounter a lesson that should, hopefully, impact the rest of our days positively. So I have been asking myself some difficult questions, the hardest one being; what did I do to contribute to this unhappy experience. Perish the thought. In my several moments of delirium i declare myself to be a marvelously perfect human being. Regrettably for my ego these moments are fleeting at best.

I find that I am better able to be honest with myself when I retreat to a solitary place and can let me thoughts come out loud and unreserved. When the hustle and bustle of life can be chocked out for a blunt moment alone with all the women within me, and with my God. In seclusion I can abandon all pretention that I carried through the day as I faced to society. In solitude I have no need to hide my true self. The silence offers more truth than the cordial and sometimes uncomfortable counsel of well meaning dear ones. I adore silence, my soul almost craves it.

Praying has not been easy. Sitting in the dark with words in my heart but lacking the voice to give them life. Trying to pray, when the need is immediate, but faith requires that we not lose hope in the absence of an urgent answer. Sometimes, the prayer is in the tears that I’ve cried when my words have failed. The deeply emotional prayer that flows so easily, accompanied by a flood of tears that run unabated. The silent prayer whose reach extends well beyond the bounds of the universe and sways the cosmos irreversibly. The honest prayer which holds the most depth, and the most truth. The simple prayer, which deposits life into my being and reignites my glow.

My strength, I must choose daily, because I need a fresh dosage each day. Diverse things weigh on the soul with contradictory impact on different days. But I have found that my strength is proportional to my resolve to survive. Strength to confront myself. Strength to stand on my own convictions. Strength to embrace the majestically flawed woman that I grow into everyday. Strength to abandon my knowledge in the pursuit of wisdom. Strength to be vulnerable. Strength to be wrong, and the strength to learn.

I try, but I still fall short. I fail numerous times, again and again. However I determine to get back up each time. It’s a journey, not a short sprint after all. Slow progress is better than no progress, or so they say. I’m simply grateful to live to try another day.

 I Am Born Extraordinary 

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