It’s just an unwatered seed. It’s a sheltered bud. It’s a flourishing thing not allowed to thrive. It is something all too ready to bloom, stunted in its prime. That is the thorn in my side. It’s a beautiful thing burgeoning in my soul, dying where it was planted. It’s not the emergence of something dour, it’s the suffocating of something excellent. And it’s taking everything else with it.
I must hold it in the palm of my hands and see it for what it is; a baby bird who has hit a window. A world encased in glass, too seemingly accessible. It is the dizzying aftermath of being stopped in your tracks. But what tender little wings, what a whole wide world they have yet to explore. How remarkable to know that it is still out there and it can still be mapped. The trick is to focus on the wonder. Earmark the incredible. Know that what you hold, in this moment, is rare and brilliant. And release it into the world in the way that it will best thrive.
Perhaps that’s the secret. To channel your gift into the venues that can receive it. Because it is a gift. It is not an unexceptional thing to have something so potent to offer the world. There is nothing wrong with growing a big, extraordinary blossom. But to let it fester in a shaded place only kills the vine. Maybe all we must do is plant it where it may grow, even if that’s not where it wishes to be.
*Originally authored at an unknown date