Patience

The more one yearns for answers, the more elusive they become. It is as if the very pursuit of certainty blinds us to the deeper truths that lie beneath the surface of our experiences. I find this paradox reflected in the ancient wisdom that urges us to be patient with the unsolved mysteries of our hearts, and, more importantly, to love the questions themselves.

What does it mean to love a question? Is it not in our nature to despise uncertainty, to long for resolution in all things? Yet there are questions that remain locked, like rooms whose keys we have long lost. They exist within us, not as puzzles to be immediately solved, but as sacred spaces where truth gestates, where meaning slowly forms. To love these questions is to acknowledge that some answers are beyond our current reach, written in a language we have yet to learn. Such is the nature of wisdom: it is not given all at once, but revealed slowly, through the toil of living.

I have often observed that those who seek the answers too soon, as if tearing through the pages of a book not yet understood, are rarely satisfied. The truth, when revealed prematurely, can be a burden too great to bear. It is not that answers do not exist, but that we are often unprepared to live them. Life, in its brutality and beauty, requires that we experience the questions before we can inhabit the answers. We must endure the tension of the unsolved, for it is in this tension that our souls are tempered.

To live everything—that is the true calling. Not merely to seek knowledge, but to embrace life in all its facets, with all its contradictions and unknowns. The soldier in the field does not know if he will survive the next battle, yet he marches forward. It is this same spirit we must adopt in our inner lives. The questions that unsettle us, that gnaw at our peace, are not enemies to be vanquished but comrades on our journey. In living with them, we become more than mere seekers of answers; we become participants in the unfolding of our own destiny.

Perhaps, in time, without even realizing it, we will find that the answers have come to us not through intellectual conquest, but through quiet endurance. We will look back one day and see that the path we walked—strewn with doubt and uncertainty—has led us to the very truth we once sought so desperately. But by then, the answers will no longer be a prize. They will have become part of who we are, lived in, fought for, and earned through the fires of experience.

Thus, I say to you, do not fear the unsolved. Love the questions. Live them fully. In doing so, you honor the deepest mysteries of life and prepare yourself, not for easy answers, but for the kind of truth that can only be lived.

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