Setting religion aside, picture faith as strength that comes when you do have to knock on wood, walk through the fire, or do have to walk on water as sheer means of survival, a "do or die" mode so to speak.
I was born an autistic child, battered and beaten my my parents who couldn't grasp the reality of it all. At 3, dad broke my pelvis and two vertabrae in a profuse beating, at four crushed my head with a cobblestone. My morning sun was finnaly walking to a place where I finally felt safe, as safe as one can be in this intense world., and that time when they would rlease me from that locked closet.
At 17 I entered into a terrible marriage that would last 22 years, filled with torture, control, and abuse. Takes a lot of guts to get to that morning sun, and then maybe though that sense of freedom is sweet, it also has a bitter side.
My interpretation is about breaking free. Breaking free of that chick that holds you down, or a life of chains whatever they may be, or even from an addiction. The freedom and liberty that comes from that moment when you decide not to be there, and never care to return, sets you into motion. Not only is it about breaking free of the chains of flipping hell, but about the chains and demons that rule your mind by night, and the day itself that frees you from tormenting dreams and thoughts that plague upon the return of those endless nights that you fear. Any addict that has freed herself or himself knows these night torments all to well. What a hard walk it is back to the other side, and maybe the truth and light there iin reality ain't as sweet as it smells once you make it there, leaving behind the old life and the people in it.
Next, it is about standing on your own without those crutches, and about crossing the bridge to where the grass IS greener, as in power, riches, and fame. When that day DOES come, and you DO stand on the hill with that greener grass all around, you see the farce that somehow all those things would make you happy, or make you more, or better, or bring admiration, when perhaps those you left behind see the monster you've become, and in this case, I think the monster's name is fame. I used to think that when I got there, I'd enjoy that morning sun, until I needed that shot of fame, power, or conceit to keep my bloated ego going. It's a hard walk back to sanity and reality when that fame vaporizes.
Finally, when everything in life is gone, and it is you and the street corner and your shadow, who will you turn to when there is no one there, and all you ever knew or believed in has vanished. Like Ram Dass said, after that darkest night, then you'll know what God knows, and see as God sees, then and only then will you learn to depend on your maker as a child does his or her mother.
Setting religion aside, picture faith as strength that comes when you do have to knock on wood, walk through the fire, or do have to walk on water as sheer means of survival, a "do or die" mode so to speak. I was born an autistic child, battered and beaten my my parents who couldn't grasp the reality of it all. At 3, dad broke my pelvis and two vertabrae in a profuse beating, at four crushed my head with a cobblestone. My morning sun was finnaly walking to a place where I finally felt safe, as safe as one can be in this intense world., and that time when they would rlease me from that locked closet. At 17 I entered into a terrible marriage that would last 22 years, filled with torture, control, and abuse. Takes a lot of guts to get to that morning sun, and then maybe though that sense of freedom is sweet, it also has a bitter side. My interpretation is about breaking free. Breaking free of that chick that holds you down, or a life of chains whatever they may be, or even from an addiction. The freedom and liberty that comes from that moment when you decide not to be there, and never care to return, sets you into motion. Not only is it about breaking free of the chains of flipping hell, but about the chains and demons that rule your mind by night, and the day itself that frees you from tormenting dreams and thoughts that plague upon the return of those endless nights that you fear. Any addict that has freed herself or himself knows these night torments all to well. What a hard walk it is back to the other side, and maybe the truth and light there iin reality ain't as sweet as it smells once you make it there, leaving behind the old life and the people in it. Next, it is about standing on your own without those crutches, and about crossing the bridge to where the grass IS greener, as in power, riches, and fame. When that day DOES come, and you DO stand on the hill with that greener grass all around, you see the farce that somehow all those things would make you happy, or make you more, or better, or bring admiration, when perhaps those you left behind see the monster you've become, and in this case, I think the monster's name is fame. I used to think that when I got there, I'd enjoy that morning sun, until I needed that shot of fame, power, or conceit to keep my bloated ego going. It's a hard walk back to sanity and reality when that fame vaporizes. Finally, when everything in life is gone, and it is you and the street corner and your shadow, who will you turn to when there is no one there, and all you ever knew or believed in has vanished. Like Ram Dass said, after that darkest night, then you'll know what God knows, and see as God sees, then and only then will you learn to depend on your maker as a child does his or her mother.
You nailed it.
You nailed it.