Sonntag, 24. Mai 2015

Light us with your fire!



Life takes its course.
It trickles on and on.

Sometimes more, sometimes less grey.
Almost the days are as alike as clones in the test tube.
Every day the same daily grind, the same people, the same places and actions.
 
But then it strikes like a lightning.
At a stroke,
Like out of nowhere,
There is all at once excitement, inspiration, motivation.
Suddenly
The grass is greener and the birds sing more melodious,
The tea tastes more intense and the food smells better,
The people seem to be friendlier and more accessible.

But what has happened here?

Why the grey of the everyday life does suddenly turn into colour?
Why the obligation of food preparation does suddenly becomes a ritual with soothing hand grips?
Why the work desk clears itself up to fly off the shelves and it is a pleasure to arrange the setting well?

In-spiration

Comes suddenly,
Is inaccessible,
Not controllable.
It can be uplifting or daunting,
Like a gentle waft
That encourages changes like a soft whispering in the ear,
Or like a whirlwind,
That ruffles everything and shakes life thoroughly, now and then not a stone is left standing.
Inspiration can neither be planned nor enforced.

But to enable and welcome it

The breeding ground can be created.
In a bowl that is loaded to the gunwales
Nothing more can be poured into it.
An appointment diary that is filled to capacity
Doesn’t allow any space for a “plus”,
Equally a mind that keeps all doors closed.

Inspiration needs space, time and openness.

Space in the appointment diary, in the kitchen and on the work desk.
Time between appointments or after work.
Openness for new thoughts, structures and ways.

And then,

At a stroke,
If the thoughts are free
And space and time are given,
If inspiration is welcomed,
Then it comes,
Not planned
But given.

And if we don’t put this present carelessly in a corner

But cherish, keep and nurse it,
Then further inspirations feel welcomed
And come to us
When their time has come.

Welcomed inspirations not only can enlighten us in one way or another,

But the spark of inspiration can initiate a fire
That at first slightly flickers,
Then burst into increasing flames
And carries others along.


Kissed of Calliope, the muse with the beautiful voice, daughter of the father of the gods and ofMnemosyne (“memory”), Orpheus (according to the source derived from “darkness of the night” or “beautiful voice”) found the strength to descend to the netherworld because he wanted to reclaim his deceased great love, in the full knowledge of the incalculability of his undertaking. But every descent into the netherworld changes and often ends differently then originally planned.


After the death of Jesus, even after his ascension, the disciples hided themselves away, remained, prayed. They mourned, partly their expectations belied, awkwardness spreaded. They had been thrilled by this charismatic Jesus, he fanned the flame in them, they had given up a lot, had followed him, had believed his message of a new world, had been full of hope and motivation – and then? He let crucify himself, stayed where he could have fled, left them in perplexity. Resignation broadened. But then, suddenly, they were filled by something unaccountable, spoke in languages they didn’t know, seamed to their surrounding drunken and out of their senses. But they were betwixt and between, but in-spired, deeply moved, and simply had to share what overcame them here. And the fire that had caught them spreaded onto others, warmed, and became an extensive blaze.


And fittingly Måns Zelmerlöw sung yesterday about the greatest anthem ever heard:
“We are the heroes of our time, but we’re dancing with the demons in our mind.” (Winner song of the European Song Contest 2015)

Now is our time. It’s our turn.


Oh eternal one,

Create even in us space that can be filled
And light us with your fire!
Ignite your fire in me
Every day anew,
So that your fire may enlighten us,
Warm us,
Delight us,
Shine beyond us
Into all the world
As a light in the darkness,
As a source of warmth in the frostiness of the night,
As a glimmer of hope for the world of tomorrow.


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