Have a Good Day

Allow me to indulge in a pomegranate comparison. Like juicy pieces clinging to the sides of compartments, we come together as a whole sphere, dangling on the branch, eventually falling from our weight. We’ll hit the ground and burst into scattered seeds. The seeds are the stories that form our lives, spreading feelings above all else. Stories connect us to our emotional parts. We rest snug in the comfort of knowing we can relate to another human being.  That connection—picture a spoon embrace—offers a sense of wholeness. 

Connections validate a personal sense of belonging. I look at writing as a life source for this reason. Telling stories rallies the troops. What is it about storytelling that matters? Stories fuel emotions. Emotions feed our life source propelling us forward or stopping us in our tracks. If we can harness how we feel by pinpointing why we feel it, we cultivate the power to control ourselves. As our intelligence blooms and technology advances, we’ve made our emotional selves into something nearly unmanageable.  We’ve complicated our core, emotional centers.  Humans across the world have emotions in common and any given emotion matters intensely when it’s being felt, yet few are examined which derails inner control. I think we want more control over our emotions, but don’t know how to get there. 

Returning to my theme of pieces to parts to a whole. The pieces we share connect us to the parts we might have in common, linking us to the circular sphere of wholeness. We can sense a wholeness whether we have all the pieces and parts intact or not. Anything I can think of has pieces to a part to a perceived whole. Allow me to use the pomegranate as an example. 

I recently made my square cut at the top of a pomegranate. This particular pomegranate had a black spot on the outer skin. I wondered how this would affect the inside. I made the four cuts deep enough to reach the arils and the paper-thin divides. Then, I shimmied the knife under the flap of one cut, while yanking gently on the top in a back-and-forth motion. I have no idea if this is necessary, but I figure the more gingerly I treat these blood vessels the less likely they are to burst in my eye or on my turquoise track jacket. Once the compartments are exposed, I can see one area has morphed into tar-like mush resting up against the thin, light-yellow border. The other side of that wall cradles the juicy, crimson capsules with which I am most familiar. In my youth, I probably would have tossed the whole fruit in the trash, reasoning the entire thing rotten. 

Instead, I examine the arils like the metaphor I am creating. It’s only been two months since I learned how to cut open a pomegranate. I could have discarded it based on the tarnished black spot on its skin. I could have focused all my attention on the area of rot and let that be where my energy died. I’ve done that with people without even acknowledging that I was doing it. I’ve narrowed a person’s complexities down to rotten words I overheard them say and that was that. The difference between a person and a pomegranate is that we can choose to mend and heal our rotten parts and whatever rotten words we send out to the universe. We can choose to cut them out of the whole, filling the space with ripe, juicy goodness. Like the juicy goodness protected in other layers of the whole of us. Life offers goodness when we intentionally focus on what it means to be good.

Have a good day.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Website Powered by WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: