“The fruit is what really matters, not how gnarly or beautiful the apple tree is.”
-Aiden Wilson Tozer
When you go to the ballet and see the prima ballerina on pointe, the strength and smoothness are the result of decades of sacrifice and pain. If you were to take off the pretty pink silk ballet slippers and look at her feet you would gasp at the gnarled toes and callouses, the receipts for the price she has paid to dance so beautifully.
The martial artist with the sleek and swift deadliness, the confidence and coolness earned through decades of pain. Was it worth the tradeoffs, the injuries and offerings of self for self-superiority?
The exquisite poem, created from the juice fruit of pain fermented then distilled onto a page, powerful and persuasive. Long after either the Muse or the wordweaver are gone, the emotion remains to be read.
The pyramids and roads of Rome still remain, even though the builders and technologies have been long forgotten. The creations still stand.
Excellence is worth the sacrifice in the end.
1 thought on “The Fruit of Labor”