"Busy schedules & Career growth are wonderful gifts, to be humbled by and appreciated. But, placing treasured value on moments of silence and thanksgiving, to be continually reminded of who ordained each sunrise, sunset, allowing us breath to see the nurturing of a dream through."
Pressure is a feeling felt by all, not one is exempt. Even writing a weekly Blog has its pressures, even though no one other than myself has assigned that standard to me... it is self inflicted. Whether we are pursuing a career or passion from the depths of our heart and soul, or scraping the inner workings of our minds for inspiration to take that first step. Each of us, regardless of the stage we are in, must keep a weathered eye on the natural awe inspiring simplicity of beauty.
As I am sitting down to write this.... coffee in hand, my heart is joyfully overwhelmed with the swirling of numbness and fanatic passion. The growth of a dream is likened unto that of a Mother & Fathers journey raising up a child. Every emotion assigned to mankind is experienced by one person in the viewing of another life being set. Making a choice to see that growth & development through the pain, exhaustion, overwhelming passion & love, isn't a choice made by the faint of heart.... although many do.
The talents & passions that are set within us from infancy, not only require dedicated nutrition.... its the tool of survival. A plant with no source of sunlight perishes, as will those seeds of passion in the sand of our hearts. In complete transparency; the choice I've made to bring up the berried treasure from my heart is terrifying.... and often nauseating. Vision, Faith and Courage are put through a blacksmiths fire.... hit from one side to be smoothed on the opposite parallel. As I walk, run and knock on doors.... I grow weary, but in contrary thought to the phrase, "There's a light at the end of the tunnel." A set of feathered wings shelters me, but encamps my heart with a garrison of steadfastness peace. I am not spared from the construction zone inside of me that I have not only asked for, but show a posture of intermittent gratitude... the umbilical cord to my creators heart fiercely beats until my last breath parts from my lungs. Not standing in wait for that day, but in adoration of the time given me will I actively stand with my heart in intermittent thanksgiving... walking towards consistency in all manners.
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