Reality

It is a terrible thought that those very traits that make me really good at what I do can become my absolute undoing.

My tenacity, my perseverance, my total devotion to achieving what is important to me is both a blessing and a curse.

Like a baby animal imprinting on the first creature it sees, I am at risk.  Imprinting on something that will not nurture me can be fatal.  Refusing to acknowledge that this object I am fixated on cannot give me what I need; making it the focal point for all my energy, my thoughts, my reason to be; not realizing the difference between constructive perseverance and mad obsession will not turn the butterfly back into the caterpillar. 

All is not lost, but realizing that the Appalachians are an older version of the Rockies is a good analogy.  I cannot return the Appalachians back into their younger version, tall and rocky and majestic like the Rockies.  Tips so tall they are covered with snow and roots so deep they still bloom with trees; it would seem the Rockies have it all.  Yet, the Appalachians, weathered and eroded for thousands of years have a mistiness, a softness, a total fecundity that can be more appealing to a wiser, older eye.

The wild energy of youth must be tempered with the wisdom of experience.  There is a time to let go, a time to take a new path, a time to embrace the unknown and allow it to work its own magic.

What will be, will be.  How I experience it is up to me.

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