I was sent this from a friend one night awhile ago, and I remember vividly pulling it up and reading through. The first time skimming quickly not sure what I was seeing. The second time with a sense of I need this right now, how did she know? Because that one night awhile ago, I did need these words. Needed them to resonate in my bones...
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have been carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to those people who don't understand."
It's from the Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams Bianco and it's devastatingly beautiful.
Real. We are on a journey to becoming Real.
"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.
"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."
"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"
"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have been carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to those people who don't understand."
It's from the Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams Bianco and it's devastatingly beautiful.
Real. We are on a journey to becoming Real.
And as I sat with one leg tucked underneath me and my Easter dress, I looked around at the scene unfolding around me. My family and my people, all in one place. With the nuances of bits and pieces of stories told here and there with laughter ebbing while birthdays were celebrated and socks were opened like they were the best gift ever.
I took the scene in. Deeply. With my one mustard color tight wearing leg tucked underneath me and my Easter dress, I thought to myself - might have even closed my eyes for a brief moment - this is Real.
It's Easter Sunday and this is my mine.
Life is not perfect and there are minor curves in the road along with major road blocks thrown on random mile markers occasionally to make sure strength still shines, but "It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become."
Slowly but surely, we become. Into who we are when we are being the people we are meant to be. Not the people we think we should be. A pesky discrepancy.
The best gifts ever might be socks wrapped tootsie roll style in yellow tissue paper, but the best times ever are the moments of rising. When the living with the can be rough and the not fair isn't met with sharp edges, but rather is taken in and molded to fit into us. To make us one step closer to better yet...to keep us being the ones our souls are meant to be.
Devastatingly beautiful.
This whole becoming Real is.
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