The Cycle of Being

Existing yet not living, darkness permeating every corner. Struggling to catch a glimpse of light, to grasp it before it fluttered away like leaves on an autumn day, falling to be crushed under heavy feet.

The tree had to let go, to experience the next phase, complete its cycle and enjoy the season of rebirth. If it held on to the leaves, trying to keep them, refusing to let go, its growth would never be realised, laden with leaves past their prime. It would miss the awesome beauty of regeneration and newness.

Letting go and growth are both permeated with pain, the kind you feel seeping through your veins, that uncomfortable itch and tickle you cannot quite remove. Yet, just at that moment when you feel as if you're being fully suffocated, no room left to breathe in your isolated prison of discomfort, you emerge from that cocoon, wings unfurling. Eyes begin to open, just in time to see the light come rushing in, sparkling kaleidoscope.