Wisdom
A nugget, a pearl.
Something that we find
after long searching and long suffering.
When we meet it, it slices us across the face
leaving a bruised imprint,
mottled black and purple.
Wisdom is not necessarily painful,
but it always leaves its mark,
and often times it is just as lacerating as foolishness.
In the core of this gem, carved and glowing with a fantastical glow,
is a hard rock.
It is not so spectacular as the gem's outer layer.
In fact, it has been called many things:
obvious, mundane, hurtful, even unnecessary.
some of these description are, once again,
not untrue.
If they all were it would be particularly offensive
since the stone is truth.
One is never exactly sure of what form this rock will come:
One time a stone.
One time a jagged rock.
One time the cool tones of marble...
Truth is many things to many people, and one thing to all people.
Truth is invariable, steadfast, strong: a rock.
But truth is also like the seed from which blooms a beautiful flower,
the petals sighing gently in the morning mist.
This flower is wisdom, with a pungent odor.
It either drives away
or attracts.
Without the seed there is no flower,
but without the flower, one knows not what to do with the seed.
Wisdom is truth,
but truth is not necessarily wisdom.
This is why you have met adults
who seem more like children
than you, the thirteen year old with the bad haircut.
It is possible that you have misjudged them,
that their wisdom is more subtle than your understanding,
but alas,
it is not always the case.
These adults wield truth, as the saying goes
"you learning something new every day."
And although their truth is vaster, wider,
they lack the pearl,
the blossom of the flower,
the smile of wonder on the face of a mother holding her newborn child.
They have truth, but lack the knowledge of what to do with it.
They lack wisdom.
Wisdom is elusive, it crops up in the oddest places:
the sleepover at a friend's house,
the football game on Sunday,
the walk in the park,
and sometimes in the places where you expect it.
But rarely, it seems.
Wisdom's shape is never fixed, which makes it able fit in the notch in your wall
which appeared from pressing your thumb against it too hard,
or in the shopping cart at the grocery store.
It is situational, dressing itself appropriately for the occasion,
wearing a tie to work on the day of the big promotion,
and hiding behind the wall while your friend calms down, remaining just around the corner.
Yet with all this, what I yearn for most
is a special type of wisdom:
a universal wisdom...
that has applications the size of the galaxy
and a length of eternity.
If once or twice, I stumble on this wisdom
it is my duty to fix it in my understanding,
to work it into my life,
to hold it dear,
and never.
ever.
forget.
For a man is not proven foolish by what he hasn't learned,
but by what he has forgotten.
Something that we find
after long searching and long suffering.
When we meet it, it slices us across the face
leaving a bruised imprint,
mottled black and purple.
Wisdom is not necessarily painful,
but it always leaves its mark,
and often times it is just as lacerating as foolishness.
In the core of this gem, carved and glowing with a fantastical glow,
is a hard rock.
It is not so spectacular as the gem's outer layer.
In fact, it has been called many things:
obvious, mundane, hurtful, even unnecessary.
some of these description are, once again,
not untrue.
If they all were it would be particularly offensive
since the stone is truth.
One is never exactly sure of what form this rock will come:
One time a stone.
One time a jagged rock.
One time the cool tones of marble...
Truth is many things to many people, and one thing to all people.
Truth is invariable, steadfast, strong: a rock.
But truth is also like the seed from which blooms a beautiful flower,
the petals sighing gently in the morning mist.
This flower is wisdom, with a pungent odor.
It either drives away
or attracts.
Without the seed there is no flower,
but without the flower, one knows not what to do with the seed.
Wisdom is truth,
but truth is not necessarily wisdom.
This is why you have met adults
who seem more like children
than you, the thirteen year old with the bad haircut.
It is possible that you have misjudged them,
that their wisdom is more subtle than your understanding,
but alas,
it is not always the case.
These adults wield truth, as the saying goes
"you learning something new every day."
And although their truth is vaster, wider,
they lack the pearl,
the blossom of the flower,
the smile of wonder on the face of a mother holding her newborn child.
They have truth, but lack the knowledge of what to do with it.
They lack wisdom.
Wisdom is elusive, it crops up in the oddest places:
the sleepover at a friend's house,
the football game on Sunday,
the walk in the park,
and sometimes in the places where you expect it.
But rarely, it seems.
Wisdom's shape is never fixed, which makes it able fit in the notch in your wall
which appeared from pressing your thumb against it too hard,
or in the shopping cart at the grocery store.
It is situational, dressing itself appropriately for the occasion,
wearing a tie to work on the day of the big promotion,
and hiding behind the wall while your friend calms down, remaining just around the corner.
Yet with all this, what I yearn for most
is a special type of wisdom:
a universal wisdom...
that has applications the size of the galaxy
and a length of eternity.
If once or twice, I stumble on this wisdom
it is my duty to fix it in my understanding,
to work it into my life,
to hold it dear,
and never.
ever.
forget.
For a man is not proven foolish by what he hasn't learned,
but by what he has forgotten.
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