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The Fall

There is nothing really beautiful about the fall. The glorification is all about the triumph. The victor. The applause that one gets from the thunderous crowd, at last. Perhaps it's all a matter of perspectives, but the tanglement of hair, the bloodied scrapes from asphalt, the collected dirt from fingernails, has its own beauty. We are expected to be beautiful in times from the fall from grace. Keep it together. Lipstick on. Shirts pressed. Muster on from tar pits unscathed, painted face on like nothing happened. There is no need to rely simply on the truths of reality for we even believe the lie ourself: I'm okay. We tell others. Text them. Email. Tweet. Post. Go, share to the world with our painted on glorified face that we are okay.

We are not. And it's okay.

Where have I convinced myself that the fall cannot be just as beautiful as the eventual walking tall? 

Somewhere in my muddied face, I am still me. My soul, my strength, my inner peace. Somewhere in the blood, the scars that heal and the ones that don't heal properly-I am still beautiful. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere is everywhere and everything I need to discover and understand about me. 

My grandmother, God rest her soul, used to tell me that I was my own worst enemy. Perhaps it's about working against myself; seeing another perspective. 

The saying goes when you fall down, at least you got a pretty good view of the sky.



I now recognize that whatever I'm going through if I fall down, it's okay. Hell, it might be okay to even stay there for a little while to gain some strength and evaluate things-just don't get comfortable. I don't have to apologize for how I fix what others have broken. I'm beautiful in my muddied and bloodied state, and make no apologies to anyone for that. I take my own time, in my own path, on my own spiritual course and am responsible for self. No lipstick? No big deal. The world keeps spinning. 

And most important of all: there is a lesson, and much to be gained in all of this. Life is a precious, precious gift. The fall is just as beautiful as the triumph because it's life, and one is learning and building self throughout it all. I will remember the dark times just as much as the good ones because I want to appreciate and respect life for what it is, and never go back to those bleak moments; re-live dark tales, and deep depths of disharmony. 

Without the fall, you cannot stand tall. 

-b.r.rivera


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