We are all looking for a paradise; some sort of asylum or utopia.
We feel the solution is to go to that perfect place where we will live perfect lives, keep perfect jobs, fall in love with the perfect person.
So we run… We leave our families. We say “they hold us back; they want to run our lives for us, push us around” so we run.
But soon we discover that life is not a bed of rose.
The perfect job we envisioned is nowhere to be found; even the imperfect one seems impossible to land.
Our relationships are turning sour; the ones for whom we turned our backs against our families for have turned their backs on us. We have gotten to the end of the road and that mirage of romance and bliss has faded.
Then we run back to our families; there is no place like home after all. We discover that we may have weaned ourselves a little too early from the breasts of our dear mothers. We go back to the hands we had bitten earlier; the hands that fed us.
Then our hands are held and we are taught how to walk properly, how to run, we are lifted when we fall, we are taught to rise again.
Then we realize that Paradise is not a place but a people. The ones who take us for who we are, those hands that continue to feed us even after we have bitten them.
Paradise is real! We have it with us right now. It is our family and it is love.
~ lovely ice~