Digging Deep
Eight months ago, minus several days, I selected my star—turned it over and found my word for the year. Release. Since that time I've looked at the word and tried to squeeze out a plethora of meanings.
Often the word sent me off in a direction I hadn't expected— but despite seeing release in various guises—serious, thought provoking, humorous—I find that I need to pursue a personal meaning. Without that meaning the word acts like a canker sore, raw and sulky.
Perhaps taking deep breaths and asking and answering the questions that peel back layers until the roots appear...
A shallot or an onion, when cut, causes my eyes to smart. The closer I get to the onion's core the more difficult it is to remain dry eyed.
To plump the depths requires a willingness to keep at something until you arrive at the center. That's the rub.
Often the word sent me off in a direction I hadn't expected— but despite seeing release in various guises—serious, thought provoking, humorous—I find that I need to pursue a personal meaning. Without that meaning the word acts like a canker sore, raw and sulky.
Perhaps taking deep breaths and asking and answering the questions that peel back layers until the roots appear...
A shallot or an onion, when cut, causes my eyes to smart. The closer I get to the onion's core the more difficult it is to remain dry eyed.
To plump the depths requires a willingness to keep at something until you arrive at the center. That's the rub.
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