Blessed are the worldviews maturing toward experiential wisdom, but beware—always beware—of perspective shifts taken too far. When coming of age, sometimes it’s best to arrive fashionably late.
When overtaken by hard-won multipolarity, it’s easy to forget the unique vantage one’s individual consciousness provides—your singular lens on a life that is yours alone. Where belief and faith once grew effortlessly but now struggle to germinate, consider your earliest history and remember this: you are native to the tendencies of your childhood. If the lands of your self have been weeded of the self-assurance that once sprouted so easily, consider this possibility: it is the doubting of your fate that constitutes the invasive species. Those too-reasonable self-limits you’ve retroactively placed on yourself? They were never meant for your ground.
Of course, there are many personal climates, and I can only speak for my own. But here’s the catch: there is little I can speak of with as much assurance as this conscious piece of land that I inhabit. So why, after a certain age, do we remain silent with ourselves about this? Why do we become so preoccupied with cultivating what requires endless pruning and maintenance?
Remember: the faith that grew so well within you did so without force. You didn’t plant it; you simply comprised the soil in which it flourished. It was a native belief, an innate spirit of vitality that needed no explanation for its existence. But over time, the temptation to see this growth as unruly also grew. What had once been a symbol of strength and life risked being labeled a weed—wild, overgrown, and out of place. Even as you gained sharper shears, you felt uncertain about pruning and shaping it, hesitant to interfere with something you didn’t consciously cultivate. So you let it run free—until the invasive doubts, seeds carried on the winds of others’ words and perspectives, crept in and began to box it out.
The nature of perspective is both a gift and a challenge. That part of you responsible for such wonderful growth—the innate energy that once spurred life so verdantly—gets drawn too far away, stretched in its effort to embrace a broader view. In doing so, your light, once intimate and nurturing, became distant, altering the growing conditions of your inner climate. This shift changed the nature of your growth—not because the soil of your being became barren, but because the connection to its source dimmed. The belief that once thrived so naturally, so assuredly, began to falter—not from a lack of potential, but from the toll of over-tilling your inner ground.
Somewhere in your quest for a broader understanding, you began to lose sight of the intimate conditions that allowed this growth to thrive. Perspective, when stretched too far, flattens. It removes the immediacy and texture of the soil, the warmth of the light, and the nourishing rhythm of the seasons. You began to associate that wild, untamed growth with immaturity, relegating it more and more to the past. But to dismiss it entirely is to lose something vital. Such wild growth, verdant and full of self-belief, is not the exclusive province of youth; it is the natural state of a life lived in harmony with its essence.
Why strive to transform your inner landscape into something it is not? The flora and fauna that naturally inhabit your soul require no exotic seeds or distant nurseries. What you’ve sought for so long to recover has always been there—latent in the winds of your being, ready to return when conditions align. Faith. It is not about searching elsewhere but about reorienting your light—placing your sun back in its natural position to nourish what was always meant to grow. The latitude and longitude of your soul have not changed; trust in the innate, and let your natural conditions foster the resurgence of what you feared might be forever lost.
So let the sun shine where it belongs—close and warm upon the soil of your being. In its rightful place, you’ll rediscover a faith in your mission that flourishes effortlessly, because it was never gone, only waiting to catch those same seeds of yesterday that have never stopped naturally occurring in your winds.