I used to think that I was a sincere person, but all I knew was an illusion of sincerity. At the point of giving something to someone, I honestly felt that I truly wanted to give something that was mine and my heart agrees. However, when things fell apart, I began asking questions like 'I did this for you. How can you do this to me?', I realized that sincerity is something I never truly understood.
Sincerity means giving from your heart and not expecting anything in return. At face value, this sounds like an easy thing to do, but your initial intentions are never resilient.
Moreover, we hold on so dearly to the things we think we own and possess, and oftentimes, we turn these things into part of our identity.
Who am 'I'?
Who is the 'I' that possess these things?
Why do 'I' hold on to these things?
Were these things 'mine' to give in the first place?
I am nothing if not an example of a fallible man, but I can only be thankful that I am given the opportunity to learn the sickness that is in my heart so I can only try to be better than I was yesterday.
My initial phase involved resentment towards myself and others. Honestly, my resistance caused me some pain. When you fight what befalls you, you carry the weight of the world. Your only choice is to let go because fighting gravity is a lost cause.
I am broken because I need to be. Word is bond but my actions are the real adhesive, and it is only through my trials and tribulations that my unveiling begins. Sincerity remains a word too big to fill my shoes in because I still know nothing but I accept that here is where my lesson begins...
- love and light, adrenalene