When I think about shifts in my heart, the kind I feel deep down within, I often use the metaphor of wetlands, those mysterious places where water meets land, and life forms get sorted out, purified, then reabsorbed.
Most people misunderstand wetlands; they often downright hate them. I think perhaps we confuse wetlands with wastelands. Whatever the reason, to these folks, bogs are not enchanted, life-filled environments, just pools and puddles of still water for pests to breed.
For me, wetlands capture and express the poetry of a soul's shadowy side; the murky processes of letting go, of reaching forth, of muddling on through.
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