Do you recall a time you've swallowed a particularly bitter medicine that continued to linger on your tongue no matter how many sips of water you took? The feeling is easily translatable, yet it points to something greater. A bitter pill refers not only to taste but primarily to the harshness of an unaccepted fact an undeniable truth. Much like in the case of medicine, it is not there to amuse but rather to mend, heal, or at least prevent from getting worse.
True bitter pills exist in different forms: the news that shatters our hopes, the decision to let go of what we love dearly, the realization of obstacles looming in the path we chose. One may choke on a bitter reality; the bitter pill may provoke exclamations of protest or, at times, a deep desire to vomit it out altogether. Here comes the problem: Just like with the medicine, to refuse taking it means the healing process is only there to be delayed.
"The difficult task of swallowing that bitter pill requires sufficient courage to acknowledge reality, great patience in waiting for results of the process, strong faith that behind this unpleasant taste lies greater importance." Bitter pills are probably never sweet but, with time, one learns to take them with equanimity, understanding that bitterness is just part of the process towards something greater. A bitter pill has come to symbolize the belief that not all that is sour in taste, bitter in fire, or unilateral is necessarily a great thing worth suffering for.