The Angels knew it was about to happen. I had been swimming for a while now, and, emboldened by the smoothness of the journey, I started to believe I was the one in charge.
Swimming had been a perfect metaphor for life creative. Until I hit a bend in the river, that is. Unable to see what was ahead, gripped by a sudden fear, I tried going against the current. When that failed, I decided to build a house on the river bend. A solid house, for I was convinced that I knew how things ought to proceed. A house on sand it was.
The angels came bearing gifts, gifts a creative could only dream of: new ideas, new images, new ways, a fresh new start.
But my house was closed. I shut the windows and locked the doors. I lowered the blinds so that not a shard of light could get through. I was convinced I could go on doing what I had been doing. I refused to let go of the ways that had worked before. I refused to acknowledge they weren’t working.
The angels camped outside, waiting.
Part of me yearned for them to break through – they would not. Patience and compassion were more their style.
My defenses gave in, I slipped into mourning of ways long gone.
“Let it go, let it go,”- they whispered.
“No, no, no,”- I whispered back.
They proceeded gently.
“Yes,”- eventually answered my soul. I surrendered to their magic, letting go at least for now of control, my idea that I could control!
No, I do not, I control little if anything.
I slowly allowed myself to go with the flow, guided through the up and down of the waves, until the next bend in this river, and another visit from the angels.
That is beautiful. I feel like that so often.
Thank you, Patrizia!