Start Where You Are.

Sometimes a father wakes at dawn to his crying child and doesn’t want to get out of bed. ?He does it anyways. ?He is committed.

Just as the sun rises across the horizon each and every day, so must we rise from our slumber to feed the children even when it hurts most.

There’s a child inside you. ?A child who has recoiled from every hurt, every disappointment, every heartbreak and back turned against the truth.

This child cries at dawn; cries when you are tired, when you are already broken and downtrodden, in angst and in pain. ?This child cries the tears of every moment you were ever denied the love that is your birthright.

Are you willing to remove the cotton from your ears, life your head from the pillow of comfort and ease, and open to the piercing shriek that beckons you from your slumber?

Can you rise on days when thoughts and doubts spin like a tornado inside you? ?Can you stay clear in your commitment even when the San Francisco fog blurs the hand that’s right in front of you?

This life is governed by the seasons: sometimes it’s winter inside, sometimes fall, sometimes spring or summer or everything at once. ?Start where you are. ?There is no need to pretend it’s summer when it’s winter–such deceit requires numbness.

Start where you are. ?On days when you wake up ready to fall asleep again, moan a little. ?Grunt a little. ?Let the tears stream down your cheeks and feed that child.

When the fog is there, dance with it. ?There is no telling it will be a clumsy dance–you will falter and there will be bruises. ?There may be no other way to make it disappear other than to wait and to dance.

Some of the most bitter foods are considered delicacies–caviar and bleu cheese. ?The fog, the storm, the days where there are demons tearing you apart from the inside–consider these delicacies. ?Taste them fully and they will pass–but you must start where you are.

There is no use in pretending vinegar is honey. ?But even vinegar is a medicine. ?And so is this moment.