Beauty beyond the Ashes
The moment when you see beyond the circumstances.
I woke up the day before my holidays ready. Ready to rest, connect and take time to reflect on what we all know was a bit of a whirlwind of a year. Everything was looking good. The workload was deligated and all the information was passed on. I found myself reflecting, "You are in a good place, well done." I knew I still had a doctors appointment to go to at lunch. I had been getting some weird discomfort and pain whenever I sneezed. Yes, sneezed! The pain was so sharp and consistent, that whilst I don't normally go to the doctor, I knew it was time.
I left the doctor appointment with a letter to take to the Emergency Department at the hospital. Immediate care required, recommended action: Surgery. Before you get too worried, it was just my gall bladder that needed removing and it didn't seem like a big deal to me. It was more overwhelming organising my two kids and making sure there was a plan in place for them so I could be in the hospital. Just as I set my last plan in place, a text message... "Oma has been diagnosed with Leukemia. We don't know much more than that. Prayers appreciated." The wind was taken out of me. I had lost my Mum to cancer the year before and my husband a few years prior to my Mum. I am stuck on the other side of the nation and I am about to have surgery. I hadn't even started my holidays yet!
I went into surgery the next day. Everything went well, I even managed to make it to the work Christmas party. As the days went on I began to recover and the news was sounding positive with my Mother-in-law. She had begun treatment and had found out there was an 80% chance of recovery. Christmas came and went and a few days later my eldest started vomiting. It was not fun, having a limited range of movement and having her leaning over the toilet bowl. Then two days later it was my turn, post-surgery only two weeks. How I didn't tear any stitches or do damage I have no idea, but the grace of God.
Have I mentioned we are on holidays at this point? We are notorious for not doing anything by halves in our family. As if vomiting wasn't enough, my eldest gets a killer blood nose. It was neverending, after 30 minutes I was considering going to emergency with her, but how while I was still nauseous and uncertain of my next visit to the toilet. Thankfully the bleeding stopped and so did the vomiting. Back to holiday mode.
It's the day before a new year and I couldn't sleep all night, still drowning in the adrenalin of my holidays thus far. The sun rises and I decide to open the house to let the fresh air in. The night before was in the 30s and I am talking celsius. As I draw back the curtains to our apartment I look out, only to notice that two of our three bikes have been stolen. Don't ask me when or how, but they were gone. Devastated for my daughter, I wake them up and share the news. Before disappointment can settle my youngest daughter runs to the toilet. Thus begins our third round of vomiting in the period of a week.
A few days later my eldest goes away to camp. Once more our house seems to be quiet and life seems to be settling. News from my Mother-in-law continues to be positive as she is released from the hospital and I am able to spend some quality time with my youngest daughter.
It's the day I am to pick up my daughter from camp. Like every morning I open the curtains and sliding door, this time I saw an empty bike rack and a cut lock laying on the ground. That's three for three. All our bikes are gone. The disappointment turns to anger. I was honestly at my wit's end. How much more could I take. I had already had a year of grieving and processing the loss of my mum and we all know the impact Covid has had on us, even if it's different from person to person. Now in the space of three weeks, I have had one thing after another. If I am honest, it wasn't really about how much more I could take, it was - I didn't want to do any of it anymore. I wanted to clam up into my shell and pretend that the world didn't exist for a bit, or maybe even for good.
If there is anything I have learnt though, especially over the past 12 months, just as we are about to break under the pressure of our circumstances - there is light. Like that at the end of a tunnel, if we are willing to keep rising, keep walking, we can reach the other side and it is beautiful. I'm not going to say that wasn't all difficult to process and carry, but I am saying that it's not the whole picture.
Out of this experience, I was able to reach out to friends who were able to comfort me and support me. Some even gave generously towards the replacement of the bicycles. I discovered the beauty of friendship and the power of community. It required humility and in exchange, there was a blessing. There has been a deeper and more intentional connection with family and neighbours alike. It's easy to see the ashes, but to see the beauty is to look beyond the circumstances. See the people you do have instead of who you don't. The people you met, that maybe you might not have. Experience the grace of receiving where you have experienced loss. All your faith to be restored in humanity, where there has been violation and acts of injustice committed against you.
Like a wildfire, life at times leaves you in devastation and all that can be seen is ashes. The heat activates the seeds that laid dormant on the soil. In time, the vegetation regenerates and returns in abundance. I don't know and won't presume to know the experiences you have faced. However, with deep conviction, I can say - there is beauty beyond your ashes. Can you see it?
About the Creator
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Ezomindus
In a valley where silence grew like silver grass, And the mountains seemed to hold their breath, There lived a soul whose name no map could claim—Ezomindus. He was no king of armies, no lord of stone halls, But a traveler of thought, a seeker of questions, A spark that refused to bow to fear or certainty. Ezomindus was born on a night When the moon hung low, swollen with mystery, And the wind whispered secrets through the cracks of the world. The elders, wise yet fearful, said, “This child will wander paths unknown, And his thoughts may burn like fire.” The stars, however, had their own counsel: “This child will wonder, And in his wondering, awaken others.” From his first breath, he listened—not just to people, But to the heartbeat beneath the soil, The rhythm of rivers carving their patient paths, The quiet ache of shadows folding over themselves. He heard the sorrow hidden inside laughter, The longing beneath simple words, The unspoken truths between two people’s eyes. While the villages built houses of brick and pride, Ezomindus built bridges of questions. “Why does the river never hold its shape?” he asked. “Why does the flame dance even as it dies?” “Why does the heart ache for what it cannot name?” His questions were neither rude nor loud; They were gentle arrows of thought, Piercing the illusions of routine and comfort. He wandered through forests older than memory, Where trees leaned close as if to hear him think. Roots twisted like ancient riddles, Leaves shimmered with the dust of forgotten stars. “Everything changes,” the trees whispered, “Even the one who asks.” Ezomindus was not afraid of change. He feared the stillness that numbed the mind. He saw cities wrapped in golden noise, People chasing shadows of approval, Running toward mirrors that reflected only themselves. He whispered to them softly, “Your chains are not iron—they are thoughts You never dared to examine.” Some laughed. Some scowled. Some left. A few felt something stir inside, A small trembling recognition of a mind not yet free. He carried no sword, yet battled storms of doubt. He climbed mountains that seemed to pierce the sky, Where air thinned into honesty, And only the purest thoughts could survive. At the summit, there was no throne, No crown, no prize—only a mirror of ice. In that mirror, he saw himself Not as hero nor as failure, But as a river of becoming. His courage and his fear flowed together, His wounds glimmered like constellations, His mind stretched out like the horizon itself. He understood at last: To conquer the world is smaller than conquering the mind. So he descended, carrying no gold, No trophies, no scrolls of fame, Only awareness. He spoke in marketplaces, empty fields, In the hush of midnight and the blaze of noon. “Do not fear the darkness,” he said. “It is the canvas upon which your light can paint.” As years passed, Ezomindus did not grow old in spirit. His eyes remained young with curiosity, His voice tender with truth. Children gathered around him, Drawn to the way he asked questions Instead of offering answers. “What is strength?” one child asked. He smiled and replied, “Strength is choosing truth Even when lies are easier, Even when the world calls for silence.” “What is freedom?” another asked. He touched the soil, the roots, the wind. “Freedom,” he said softly, “Is seeing your own thoughts Without becoming their prisoner.” “And what is love?” they asked. He paused, feeling the wind trace his weathered face. “Love,” he said, “Is the courage to let another soul breathe, To honor their mind as you honor your own, To walk beside them without claiming their journey.” Ezomindus became a legend, Not of battles won or lands conquered, But of minds awakened. He did not build empires of stone; He built awakenings, Invisible yet eternal, A revolution of thought, quiet yet unstoppable. When his final evening came, The sky blazed in amber farewell, And the valley seemed to lean closer in sorrow. He lay beneath the same moon That had watched his first breath. Around him stood those Who had once been lost in noise, Now awake to the rhythm of their own hearts. “Master,” they whispered, “What remains when you are gone?” Ezomindus looked at them, At their trembling hope, At their eyes opening wide to their own truths. “I remain,” he said, “In every thought you dare to examine, In every fear you face with courage, In every moment you wake instead of drift asleep.” His breath faded like a candle surrendering to dawn, Yet the valley did not grow silent. It hummed with awareness, Alive with the minds he had stirred. Ezomindus was never a body— He was a question set on fire, A space between impulse and reflection, A courage to look within. He was the whisper that said: Do not live asleep. Do not fear the depths of your own mind. For the greatest journey Is not across oceans or stars— It is through the vast, uncharted realm Of your own consciousness. Long after, children would trace his steps in the forest, Listening to the trees, to the rivers, Learning to see the unseen. They carried no scrolls, no crowns, Only the seed of questioning he had planted, A spark that refused to die. And so Ezomindus lives, Not in stone or story, But in every mind that dares to pause, Every heart that dares to reflect, Every soul that refuses to sleep While the world drifts blindly onward. For life is fleeting, And the noise of the world can drown the quiet, But the mind that awakens is eternal. Ezomindus taught this: To live is to be aware, To be aware is to be free, To be free is to walk the endless path Of truth, courage, and love. And somewhere, when the wind bends the silver grass And the moon hangs low like a question, A voice stirs inside the restless heart: “Do not live asleep. Do not fear your own depths. For the greatest journey Is not across oceans or stars— It is through the vast, uncharted Realm of your own mind.” Ezomindus is not gone— He is the question set on fire, The mind that will not sleep, The whisper inside every heart That chooses awareness over comfort, Courage over fear, Truth over illusion. And the valley, ever alive, Breathes on, Shimmering with the light of a mind awake.
By The best writer a day ago in Motivation
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