We as much happen to life as life happens to us. Life is often like the first flight of a little bird. Having found a new freedom in flight, it wants to fly far far away and explore all nooks and corners. The idea of being in or coming to the nest seems imprisoning as if it was the nest that was keeping it from flying. The little bird flies and covers great distances in its euphoria, challenging the winds, calling out to the skies, racing with other forms, feeling the warmth of existence on its back.
As dusk draws and hunger strikes, the ecstasy starts to fade and a deep longing for familiarity arises. The nest is no longer a prison, but home. The world is no longer a challenge, but an understanding. The frontiers are no longer mesmerizing but enduring.
But had it not been for the flight, the nest would have remained a prison, the world would have continued to be a challenge, and frontiers would have always mocked as territory unconquered.
In every victory there is a defeat inherent. And in every defeat there is a victory to be realized.
Many of the undesirable facets of life tend to be extremely indispensable. Not because life won’t be without them, but because were it not for them, one would never know what life was all about. In deep fear of darkness lies the sacred appreciation for light.