Let me tell you another story. There is a grey world, without colour, without trees or living things. Wounded people live in caves, scratching out life from a bare and inhospitable world. Beneath the crust of this world, is a golden light, powerful and full of urgent energy. The cave dwellers can hear it and feel it rising. They fear it greatly, it haunts them. They foresee it bursting through the surface of their world, tearing apart homes and safe burrows, destroying the world they have known. They do everything they can to keep it at bay.
The light is the raw stuff of dreams, of hope, of life force. It seeks the surface with the determination of a plant, with the ferocity of a volcano.There is so much fear here, so much loss.
What if it doesn’t have to stay this way? What if the golden light is exactly what the grey world needs to come back to life, to be abundant and vibrant and nourishing? What if the cave dwellers, instead of living in fear of it, can be the stewards of it? Instead of being haunted by it, they can live in the promise of its song. What if they are the ones who mine into the rock for it? Who guide it into safe passages where it does not destroy? Who direct it so that the changes are good, thoughtful, wise ones? What is there is harmony instead of threat?
Narrative therapy and focusing techniques are something I’ve been exploring, making space to ask questions of myself and find new ways to think about my world, new ways to frame my stories. This is powerful for me.
With this shift comes also the power to face the certainty of loss. I have been terrified of my dreamers, those who fly, who take risks, who rock boats.