Have you ever noticed how there is always a poor neighborhood right next to an affluent one? Or maybe how some people spend so much time thinking about the kind of person they want to avoid that they end up bumping into that unwanted person again and again. I personally have experienced the quiet painful fear of riding a roller coaster, only to miraculously have that coin flipped over, to become the exhilarating, thrilling pleasure, of screaming through the drop from great heights.
I have this theory that the best way a thing can take form, is in the defining shape of its contrast. A rough, patina pitted, rusty rail looks most natural next to the smooth dark aqua of the ocean that created it. Does the softest smooth not look it’s best next to the blemished and the bumpy?
It’s a terrible irony that we must leave a comfortable place in order to stretch to greater goals and a tragic reality that self esteem comes from conquering and surviving the tsunami of life; much less the spelling of the word tsunami. And right next door to the immobilizing fear of what lies around the next corner, is the faith that we got through it before and we’ll get through it again. Does spring not return after every atrocious winter or the cool breeze of fall not follow the oppressive heat of summer? When things seem at their worst, it’s evidence that the best is yet to come.