My moods change like little wavelets blowing across a pond in response to a sudden gust of wind. Sometimes leaves also come tumbling off the trees and little tornedos of dust sting my eyes. In those moments, panic - a certain defensiveness - overtake me.
But as things are wont to do, the wind dies down, the trees manage to hold onto most of their green garments, and the dirt morphs back into a path through the woods. And what ressembles normalcy returns...until the next gust.
As a mentor of mine once said when faced with the unfaceable, "Ah so. This too we must accept."
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But as things are wont to do, the wind dies down, the trees manage to hold onto most of their green garments, and the dirt morphs back into a path through the woods. And what ressembles normalcy returns...until the next gust.
As a mentor of mine once said when faced with the unfaceable, "Ah so. This too we must accept."
.
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