This morning, the world was still asleep in the comfort of the darkness provided.
I was working in my studio and the words on the wall taken me out to a very special mysterious place one more time.
These words have sustained me to travel on the path, whatever it is, for years.
I was on it, I was lost. I found my way back on it with huge efforts climbing a boulder towering above the tiny me and I landslided off, head first with my face buried in the ground in a second.
I thought I know the truth of myself. Then next moment, I could be feeling so lost and wanting to cling on something to believe, something has the whole truth that could shine the light on the path for me to find my way home.
Do I know my path? With the shovel in my hand, I am only travel one step at a time, opening up and defining the path by removing one scoop of soil each step.
In this mysterious place, I manage to find courage to keep going on this undefined mass of wild territory.
The first beam of light creeping in through the window, my hand was shaping love, courage, willingness and all the other ingredients I need to keep myself on the path. On the easel, the artwork reveals the image of a pair of lovers embracing……
When I am doing something that I love, I know that I am home.
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Awesome.