My ego is like a five-year-old little girl. At times, certainly recently, it has been throwing tantrums, some serious ones at that. My higher self is the mother of that five-year-old, who tries to calm my little girl ego into understanding that everything will be fine if only I would stop doubting and let go of trying to control every detail of my life.
The mother beckons me to stop and listen for a little while and not get so caught up in my fear of lack, a fear that the life I dream of will pass me by. The mother consoles me by reminding me that everything has its divine reason and timing and will surely lead me closer to fulfilling my life’s purpose.
But fear is powerful and the little girl sometimes gets carried away. The more the mother tries to soothe her, the louder she screams and the harder she kicks. So the mother decides that a time-out is appropriate for the little girl, a vibration tune up if you will. The mother tries to bring her daughter back into divine alignment and in order to do that, the little girl must be sent “up” to her room to reflect on and contemplate what she knows to be true.
The mother suggests that it’s time to go “upstairs” and the little girl spirals out of control screaming even louder and latching on to the door way intensely. The mother isn’t able to pull her “up”. The harder the mother pulls the more her daughter rebels. Realizing this will not work, the mother decides to sit and wait out the storm.
Sitting next to her daughter the mother simply begins to rub her daughter’s back in soothing small circles. The little girl on the floor is in a heap, sobbing. She doesn’t want to go upstairs again, for the millionth time. She doesn’t want to let go of her belief that God has forgotten her or that God won’t remember the dreams she has for herself. The little girl feels like a victim, abandoned by God. “No body cares about me. If they did they would give me what I want…RIGHT NOW.” The mother whispers in her ear, “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.” But the little girl can’t hear anything over her self-loathing. She weeps for herself.
Whimpering the little girl sniffles and wipes her nose on her mother’s sleeve and then something magical happens; as if the little girl is sitting on top of a very tall and slippery slide, she pushes herself off. In a free fall she releases into the feeling of acceptance of exactly where she is on her journey. As she descends from the top, her spirit rises inside of her and she begins to see clearly. All the kicking and screaming seems silly now, she feels embarrassed and humbled. Her tear-drenched face is swollen and she recognizes that her mother never left her side.
The mother is a witness for her daughter’s purging and realizes that what her daughter needed was not to be yanked up but to be let down. She needed to sit with her daughter, exactly where she was and listen, allowing her fears to be voiced and released. She needed to go down the slide with her daughter not up the stairs.
The little girl is exhausted from fighting herself and curls up in her mother’s lap. Her mother softly sings her a lullaby and a sweet prayer to God for grace and finally, finally, peace of mind.
