the dance of the ink riddled fingers

shut up, storm

Posted in epiphany tiffany, handfuls of ambition by enisea on 05/09/2011

I drove home with a familiar sort of anxiety.  The sort of anxiety that forecasted the swell of an ocean of overwhelm. Fierce winds began to whip around me in a display of intimidation, crashing waves on jagged rocks and aggravated storm clouds laughed it’s deep thundering laugh.  I flinched at every threat, eyes flitting and mind racing through the paranoia of a familiar sort of hopelessness. 

STOP.

I whispered to the foreboding dark skies, “stop it”. And to the swelling waters “I know how to swim”.  To the wind as it rushed menacingly straight at me, “all you are is air”.  And little by little, I didn’t feel so afraid.  Little by little the anxiety sank.  Little by little, the tasks at hand seemed doable, a little less impossible, and a little less daunting.  Heck, a strange and brave satisfaction arose from being about to whisper to Fear, Worry and Anxiety: three pathetic bullies, “You’re not that overwhelming” and watch them slouch, pout and walk away as deflated insecure bullies realising that fear was just a cardboard mask now without it’s original terror.

Ah, Jesus.  “Nothing is impossible”, so you say. 
A handful of things in my life look pretty convincingly impossible… but I’m believing that they’re all just faking it.

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