I dug a hole for the love of digging, and when the earth did not pay me for my efforts, I was angered and depressed.
I had fallen in love with the earth.
It’s my own fault.
I’m the one who chose to dig, without guarantee of reward.
Though after digging with love and enthusiasm for several years, something had happened.
Just as I thought I had cleared all hazardous debris,
Gigantic rocks appeared before me.
They were so large and obstructing, I lost all hope for continuing.
I wept for several days, in denial of my obstacle.
Then I stood up,
Aimed high with my tools,
And slammed down hard into the rocks.
Ricochet.
The Earth did not want to be dug any deeper.
Its goal had been accomplished,
And I felt abandoned.
It was done with me.
I stayed in the hole for a few more days,
Waiting for it to fall back in love with my essence,
But the rocks were indeed a barricade.
It took me 60 days to climb out of that hole.
The entire time I climbed, I cried, yelling at the wall.
By the time I reached the top, I had stopped weeping.
I had drained all my sorrow.
I was done with the hole!
At first I had thought nothing was gained from the digging and climbing.
But I was wrong.
I was stronger.
My muscles more developed,
My mind more focused,
My soul more intact.
I resigned from digging, as the hole had the potential to be an endless job.
And while the rocks could eventually be removed,
They obviously didn’t want to be.
The energy was well spent, as I had come to know the earth in such detail, that it became my best friend.