POEM: Chrysalis of Security

I shed my chrysalis of
Arising as a butterfly
Only then realizing
I was not the worm
That I appeared

I am struck by how the quest for can easily become a .  Whether the quest for is played out through , material comforts, emotional familiarity, , or big, juicy mental rationalizations, letting go of the known, familiar, and predictable seems necessary to take flight amidst the “unbearable lightness of being“.  Apparently, a common regret of the dying is about not having taken enough risks.  Well, we are all dying.  The question is really: Am I living?

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