First question I asked of self,
would I offer to walk a mile in someone else's shoes if I knew their shoes
were as uncomfortable as this?
Second question of self...
why do I even need to ask such a thing?
Life...so damn difficult at times. Hard for every single one of us in one way or another,
all these struggles that take hold. Ages ago, while in conversation with someone,
I said that everyone bore pain in their own way and sometimes others could see it
and sometimes they could not...
that it was easy when
someone wore their wounds on the outside - obvious and hard to ignore -
like a burn or a bad scar,
but what about the wounds that weren't visible?
They're still ever present,
there is just no way for another person to know.
We often don't tell. Can't tell. But they are with us nonetheless.
So back to this shoe and the sudden avalanche of emotion...
I need to ask
because
I need to remind myself to never forget compassion
and too, when compassion doesn't come when I myself might need it most,
I need to forgive what others cannot see.
********
Instructions for living a life.
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.
~ Mary Oliver ~
Photo credits: Woman's slapshoe, 1625-1649 AD, England, The Greig Collection of Ladie's Shoes; The Story Teller, mural project for Fellini Gallery, Berlin, by Michael Vincent Manalo.
