...me.
If I were a tree, I would not say that the snow that rests on my branches is a part of me. The glorious little birds that nest in my branches don't define me. The blossoms and leaves may whisper of fruits yet to come, but once ripe, they fall to the ground, and what am I then?
I am not the apples or leaves or snow. I am not the things I do, rather I am who I am, no matter what my surroundings may recommend from me.
A friend recently paid me a couple of monumental compliments. It was nice to hear, but nicer to realize that those moments are fall leaves, blazing and glorious for an instant, and then fading into nothing. Balance is remembering who you are when good things are pouring out on your life and when darkness envelopes it. It is staying immune to the good and bad, and being content to stay on the steady, rocky climb of life.
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