I have a wild pool of water that has beautiful unpredictable ripples. It reflects a golden light that is more beautiful than anything I have ever seen. The patterns it creates are always changing and endlessly fascinating. I gaze at it with love.
I found the perfect bowl put the pool in. So I scooped up the water. But, my perfect bowl was too small to fit all the water in the pool. Some of it spilled out and was lost. In horror, I poured the water back into the pool.
There is a little less light reflected. There are fewer ripples.
Every time I look at the pool, I see the lack at the sides of the pool. The light and the ripples are a little less and always will be because of my own lack.
I made a mistake that I can never entirely fix.
I mourn for the pool I damaged.
Not looking at the pool anymore wouldn’t help. Changing the pool again to try to ease my pain would only cause more pain. Deciding that it is in the past and I should be happy with what is here now would be a deception.
I have to live with the knowledge that I broke something that cannot be fixed. I have to feel the pain every time I gaze at the pool because it is a part of loving the pool as it really is.
Being brave is not turning that pain into suffering by punishing myself nor is it ignoring what I did by re-framing reality for my own comfort. Feeling it fully and continually offering compassion is the only way to keep from dimming the light further.
Photo credit: sparkyuk99 flikr