You wrongfully treat your past like dirty rags. Soiled, bitter memory that you strive to escape, to bury and discard. But it is in this moment your recent past has its deepest roots within you.
You want to hack at the sore remaining evidence. Stamp down those roots, break off those branches, throw away the fruit. Your life is a constant battle in secrecy. A case of futile, dishonest newness.
You are a conspiracy. A past becomes a sinner. A crime in your eyes.
You cannot dismantle your past, nor can you uproot it, unearth it, destroy it. Your own feet are stood firmly upon the earth that you curse. This earth is not to blame but your ability to use it well or to use it wrongly.
Your past is not a cause for shame.
And you, by trying to hide it, are not letting it grow naturally out of you. Bad deeds and doings, the fruits of a poorly cultivated tree.
Whilst they can be painful to display, they are but a sure sign and promise of progression. The potential of progression. This old tree, this old self that you grew, has blossomed.
Do not be hasty.
Do not be so blinded and ruled by shame to attack this tree. No. For it is on its natural life cycle. Growing and outgrowing, producing and losing. This offering it has produced has sprung, yes, but it will also grow old. A time of new cultivation is approaching. This is promised. Whether you will change your ways to encourage better fruit or continue this old path is all that remains uncertain.
In life, you will year after year, grow, blossom, fruit and flower, weaken and fall, ready to begin once again.
Now, there are times when your life appears to have brought forth an ugly, unwanted display and offering.
Your fruit rotten and of no nutrient, your branches limp and leaves dull. Your state is so poor that you would rather no one see. You would wish to hack away at your poor self instead of baring it. To seek your own destruction is to never see it outgrow.
You will forever bare such offering if you do not consider new cultivation, your need of nurture and of care.
Do not be so fickle to forget that all things exist in such a cycle.
We blossom in the Spring, then are faced with the long hot and heavy Summer, the challenging and changing Autumn, and a Winter of letting go and of abandonment. Though it is hard to suffer so long in your weary state, do not fear these seasons.
Your blossom can be beautiful if you but allow these seasons to weather you, challenge and alter you in the way they are intended to. And although the change is never gentle, especially for you, the weakened, they are preparing you. They are teaching you the importance of better nurture and cultivation so that you may, in time, withstand them better.
So let yourself, all of you, be seen. To grow as you will. Allow yourself, no matter how rotten and ugly you feel, to survive, to change.
The Summer sun will decay your poor fruit, the Autumn winds will loosen your faded leaves and Winter's bite will strip you down... and you will be ready... as you deserve and as was intended, to blossom beautiful again.
Your old self, unburied, comes to reside and remain as the layers of bark beneath the new. And once you have blossomed brighter than ever before, you no longer see that old bark as a shameful thing. No one does. Now it exists as a source of your strength and character, alongside every other moment, every old past and every old self that you have ever known. Right where it belongs.
Love from Bambi x
You want to hack at the sore remaining evidence. Stamp down those roots, break off those branches, throw away the fruit. Your life is a constant battle in secrecy. A case of futile, dishonest newness.
You are a conspiracy. A past becomes a sinner. A crime in your eyes.
You cannot dismantle your past, nor can you uproot it, unearth it, destroy it. Your own feet are stood firmly upon the earth that you curse. This earth is not to blame but your ability to use it well or to use it wrongly.
And you, by trying to hide it, are not letting it grow naturally out of you. Bad deeds and doings, the fruits of a poorly cultivated tree.
Whilst they can be painful to display, they are but a sure sign and promise of progression. The potential of progression. This old tree, this old self that you grew, has blossomed.
Do not be hasty.
Do not be so blinded and ruled by shame to attack this tree. No. For it is on its natural life cycle. Growing and outgrowing, producing and losing. This offering it has produced has sprung, yes, but it will also grow old. A time of new cultivation is approaching. This is promised. Whether you will change your ways to encourage better fruit or continue this old path is all that remains uncertain.
In life, you will year after year, grow, blossom, fruit and flower, weaken and fall, ready to begin once again.
Now, there are times when your life appears to have brought forth an ugly, unwanted display and offering.
Your fruit rotten and of no nutrient, your branches limp and leaves dull. Your state is so poor that you would rather no one see. You would wish to hack away at your poor self instead of baring it. To seek your own destruction is to never see it outgrow.
You will forever bare such offering if you do not consider new cultivation, your need of nurture and of care.
Do not be so fickle to forget that all things exist in such a cycle.
We blossom in the Spring, then are faced with the long hot and heavy Summer, the challenging and changing Autumn, and a Winter of letting go and of abandonment. Though it is hard to suffer so long in your weary state, do not fear these seasons.
Your blossom can be beautiful if you but allow these seasons to weather you, challenge and alter you in the way they are intended to. And although the change is never gentle, especially for you, the weakened, they are preparing you. They are teaching you the importance of better nurture and cultivation so that you may, in time, withstand them better.
So let yourself, all of you, be seen. To grow as you will. Allow yourself, no matter how rotten and ugly you feel, to survive, to change.
The Summer sun will decay your poor fruit, the Autumn winds will loosen your faded leaves and Winter's bite will strip you down... and you will be ready... as you deserve and as was intended, to blossom beautiful again.
Your old self, unburied, comes to reside and remain as the layers of bark beneath the new. And once you have blossomed brighter than ever before, you no longer see that old bark as a shameful thing. No one does. Now it exists as a source of your strength and character, alongside every other moment, every old past and every old self that you have ever known. Right where it belongs.
Love from Bambi x
I'm speechless <3
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