A dear friend called yesterday, at the end of her rope. She told me an amazing story of surrender and how the Universe responded.
I knew exactly what she was talking about--the feeling that you simply and absolutely cannot move, cannot pick yourself up and start again one more time, cannot. Cannot. Cannot.
But I also knew what she meant about the spark of connection to the Divine and how it lives inside us. I sometimes feel so far from it, but know that the spark has not moved. It is constant. My ability to perceive it shifts and changes. I miss feeling that connection the way I miss my daughter at college or my parents when I lived far from them. I miss it as the source of my strength and the nurture of my soul.
No feeling I know comes close to the feeling of being in the flow--riding the tail of a kite flown by God alone. It's free and effortless: simple joy in doing.
I sometimes feel the spark hovering behind me, just out of sight and reach. I whirl, trying to catch it, but that's no good. Maybe the only answer is to throw myself at the feet of God and surrender.