“At the temple there is a poem called "Loss" carved into the stone.
It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out.
You cannot read loss, only feel it.”Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha
We are all a little broken. Some of us more than others. You may be fragmented in a polished marble kind of way; all shiny with nothing but surface, or you may be torn like tissue paper wadded up and discarded at Christmas; someone enthusiastically pulled you out, but forgot to put you back together.
Seeds do not grow in light. Seeds need darkness; the darkness to push out all their attributes. The space that the darkness creates is needed for the seed to become its destiny. We become taller by being pushed down. We gain sight from being blinded. We are able to run because we once limped. Just as the seed only grows once it is planted deep into the ground, do we become stable only from having been in flight.
A light in hand will not always assure you safety from treacherous rocks, but the light does let you know that you are not alone. Every heartbreak. Every loss. Every hurt. Every regret are all accompanied by wisdom when we are finally able to climb out of the prisons we create for ourselves. For without us, our problems would have no fuel. Our fights would have no fury. Our losses would have no sting. It takes us to give our struggles meaning. As a painting needs its creator to find substance, shape and form as our tears cannot be seen without a mirror, only felt. If we choose to sit and wallow in it, then that is where we will stay. We choose how we want to reflect ourselves. It is our job to take what tragedy has wrought and pass it on to others. The point of this is not to take their pain away, but to guide them through it. Be their comfort, as the light was once yours. You can be someone else's light.