When I was in my teens and younger, my kin used to give me the sense that I had egg running down my hair. They would — with no intention of inflicting pain, of course — smack my head with a closed fist, and then their fingers would slowly recede from the palm down the roots of my hair pressing gently, yet firmly enough, into my scalp to create this illusion.
It’s a memory that was running through my mind after I had seen the sky this morning. Through the windshield of my car, I, for a few seconds, managed to see the sky with this iridescent, orange and almost pinkish glow; it was simply radiating, and I could not look at it without being awe-stricken. It’s something that, albeit seen daily, never gets old.
The image that got me to write this morning was that which came to me as I witnessed this sight in the sky. It quite honestly looked like an unseen egg had been cracked in two, and the yolk and liquid simply oozed out, dripping and hardening into this thick substance almost like molasses. Like a painting that was drying, and all the pigments were put into place to make for this magnificent sight. And I saw myself, reflecting through the times before the egg cracked. It was quite a thick shell, indeed, for reasons which I am not at liberty to divulge, and it was heart-wrenching each time that I had found myself in such a melancholic rut. Essentially, one’s heartfelt beliefs are endogenous, so if one encounters things, good or bad one will grow accustom to it. I was not a bad person. I was simply being hard on myself; ergo, I was bad on the inside. This, however, did not change my place in social obligations. I was still a good person to others, but, on the inside, I could not have been more raucous — even if, at times, it was not so piercing; it was there like a reverberation that persisted the more I endured to harden my nerves. I pulled and pulled, struggling to break the string by simply pulling, thinking that I would manage, but string doesn’t break that way — or, if it did, it would take a whole lot of effort! Instead of planting the dagger within and releasing the figurative blood of my “enemy” (so pointless that it is, because I was only hurting myself), use it to cut the tension in this overly elongated cord.
That is what I did, and the relief of it all is simply marvelous. When I mentioned earlier that it had been a long time since someone had poured imaginary egg yolk down my hair, that is simply not true. For a long time now, the egg has been fully cracked. A vestige of egg shells exists, but the yolk is overflowing. I have felt it through the things I do, through these very words that I am expressing to you now, through that which my heart and I experience (good and bad) so as to come forth spiritually stronger. When anyone looks at the view as I did this morning, it should not simply be the view in the sense of looking at a canvas. Anyone can paint their talent through a flamboyant tone and choice words, but this is not the way. Not at all. It is that which is found within, making yourself within, being true within, bringing your talents in a way that is not on display as a social catalyst. You can still be a star on stage, knowing within that it is right, not merely falling into the arms of fans: hoping, praying that they will love you. Look at the sky, marvel the beauty of nature, of the creations found within this planet, and you will find that you are looking at a reflection of your inner self as well.