Pain is familiar. We get it. We experience it often.
Sure, pain hurts. But often, we use it as a crutch, or a guiding light. It’s actually quite comfy in a weird, masochistic way.
But joy… Joy is frightening because we know it can lead to utter disappointment.
Joy takes us up a high flight of stairs and hangs us off the edge.
We can fall off the third or fourth step, no problem, but when joy takes us to the fourteenth or fifteenth floor, we begin to get queasy. We start looking for exit plans. Fire escapes. Laundry chutes. Those big air cushions like in the movies. Anything.
We know that people get maimed or killed when falling from this high.
We have... To get... Back down...
But what if we knew we could fly?
What if we stared our mortality in the face with a smirk and allowed joy to keep taking us higher… and higher… and even higher?
What if we conjured the immortal place in us that wants us to choose joy every single time in spite of this world’s limitations?
We must overcome our fear of heights so we can choose joy no matter how high it might take us.
It’s this fear of heights that brings us back down to the ground floor. Time and time again.
Well… Here we are again. I’m headed back up. No matter how far it might drop me. You coming with?
Grab those wings and let’s go…
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