BlogMas 2017 Day Three - Unearth

Hello. It's Day Three!

Incompletion is an art form.

As tempted as I was, to leave this post just at that, I don't reckon my blog deserves this humour jolt at three in the morning. Most times, in life, we can't see things through. Can't or won't. In either case, it really is a matter of choice, only one overruled slightly more by fear and insecurities. And, I'm strongly of the belief that certain things in life can't be overcome simply by the sheer gall of being bigger than your fears. But, I'm also of the belief that everything in life is easily ignorable. As trivial as that sounds, the easiest thing in the world is to unlearn what you know than learning something new. So, unearth yourself. Trace back where you begin, and be very clever to let the reason of that beginning be nondescript. It's easy. It's as easy as trying to remember why you started walking. Because, biology. And, yet most of us don't forget to retrace, fall to our knees and willingly even want to crawl through burning sand to achieve or possess whatever it is we want. That upheaval from your own self is paramount. I'm quite convinced I was meant to be a koala bear, but I was born a human. And every now and then, without attempting to ask why, I remember that I'm a human, and a young, independent, ambitious woman at that, I do get out of my bed every morning. That analogy is absolutely legit and acceptable. But the thing is, when you disrupt the engendering of something beautiful, you don't just leave it undone and incoherent. You break it. A thing is broken when you leave it abridged. And it does take an art form to make something seem inadequate. You have to break it, by hook or crook. Because you so impeccably choose the point of where it needs to be choked, only that it doesn't appear dead, but just crude. And, I admit there's beauty in there as well.

Endure. Persevere. Cling on. Stick around. Kick your heels. Get home that damn bacon. See it through. Let yourself be part of creating something. Whatever it was, or whoever it was. You can't ever, by any stroke of luck, be gifted beauty in life, or the possibilities of chancing upon it. 

It is something you build.

Until then.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.

A.