I Sore

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Pain and Pleasure have an interesting relationship.

Pleasure sits on a pedestal, seeking our praise and adulation. She promises freedom, exhilaration, and the opportunity to share in the riches of the elite.

Pain, however, lurks in dark alleys, a menacing presence, threatening those who venture down her path.

Pleasure allures us. Pain repels us.

Pleasure promises soaring. Pain delivers soreness.

But in life, we dance with both.

We crave long, slow, sensual dances with pleasure. Keep her music playing deep into the night, because surely, this is where joy and contentment can be found.

And if we must dance with Pain, we hope perhaps it is a line dance, shared with friends and loved ones who can pull us through. Make it a short song, and hopefully one that we know the steps and moves to. We don’t want to embarrass ourselves.

Yet as life’s music plays on, forcing us to dance with each of these sisters, we begin to see past their veneer. Pleasure’s beauty begins to fade, revealing complexion issues buried beneath layers of foundation. We begin to notice her beauty is more cosmetic than character, and her promises are more helium than heart felt.

Meanwhile, dancing with pain becomes familiar, and though awkward and rough, the soreness is not unbearable. Pain steps on our toes, or even clumsily knocks us down, but we rise again soon enough. Perhaps bruised, we begin to recognize our strength to endure the dance. In fact, when the soreness dissipates, we notice beauty that comes not just from our dance partner, but that resides within us. Dancing with this partner provokes transformation within us.

And we’re left wondering, was Pleasure merely an attention whore, cleverly seeking our praise while lulling us into a daze, buffeted by broken promises of peace and fulfillment? Did she pull the proverbial wool over our eyes, comforting us into a sleep that left us numb to pain of others?

And while our hearts still yearn to soar, we realize the path that unleashes our souls to take flight, often involves periods of welcome soreness along the way.

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6 thoughts on “I Sore

  1. This kind of writing just pulls you in and doesn’t let go. I enjoyed this post on so many levels. Your words and images speak clearly, your message rings true. I believe we pain is often the impetus for personal growth. Difficult, to be sure, but when we come out on the other side we are usually stronger and more sensitive. Beautifully done!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Running is probably the greatest made where I learn the transformative power of pain! The sore legs eventually produce stamina in my lungs, in my mind, and in my dreams. Best wishes and many happy miles ahead for you!

      Like

  2. This is beautifully done.

    “Yet as life’s music plays on, forcing us to dance with each of these sisters, we begin to see past their veneer. Pleasure’s beauty begins to fade, revealing complexion issues buried beneath layers of foundation. We begin to notice her beauty is more cosmetic than character, and her promises are more helium than heart felt.”

    That is one excellent paragraph. I really enjoy the contrasts and comparisons in this post and all of the imagery you use here. Still rereading this to catch all of the subtleties. Wow.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you for your kind words. It is always humbling when another writer appreciates the product of wrestling and reflection. Your response is very affirming and a reminder that our words resonate with others.

      Liked by 1 person

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