Thorns and Roses

Life consistently proves itself to be ironic. One day, at the same hospital the sounds of a new born baby drown out the sobbing of the newly widowed woman down the hall, weeping over her husband's death. The county courthouse, in the same day, sees two happy people, commence their life together with sacred vows, whilst just a few hours prior, two, not-so-happy people, sign the divorce documents amidst verbal curses. Joy, sadness, hope, depression, all too often seem to occupy the same vehicle. We take one exit after another in hopes that we could rid ourselves of one or the other. The roller coaster can quickly become hard to bear. Oh that we could be all or nothing...oh, but the hope intrudes upon the depression so that we cannot resign ourselves to the mire of our own self-loathing. Oh cursed hope, why doth thou taunt me so? We marry snapshots of our emotions and believe the lie that we are what we did or what we feel. In reality we are neither what we did or what we feel. Feelings are fleeting, yet they somehow seem to define so much of our life experience. Some would say, how could we know the truth if it were not for the lies? Or, how could we know light had we not known darkness? Maybe. But it seems that for whatever reason, we must consign ourselves to the fact that we are all roses speckled about with thorns. Don't deceive yourself into thinking you are all fragrant petal or all sticky thorn. The pride of the petal quickly turns the scent sour, and the insecurity of the thorn boggles the mind of those looking in who see and smell the beautiful petal. Yes, we are all roses speckled about with thorns.

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