Belfast Telegraph

I used to laugh at the idea of angels ... now I'm asking them to help me

by Nuala McKeever

Where do you draw the line? Yes, you. Do you think it's ok to sit around in your nightclothes if you're having breakfast but draw the line at answering the door to the electric meter man in yer jammies?

Do you agree with some of what that guy from Ukip says, but draw the line at actually voting for that kind of thing? Do you believe that there's something after this life, but draw the line at seeing it as a big man with a white beard?

More to the point, are your lines moveable?

Do you lean on your firmly held beliefs in times of uncertainty and derive comfort from being "right" or do you find yourself swaying, shifting, adrift in the tide of uncertainty and actually, secretly, maybe just maybe, enjoying not having a clue what's going on?

Can uncertainty have anything good to offer?

I hope so. I think so. It better have, or I'm sunk.

This week I've been practising letting go of my lines.

I was certain I could make everything right with someone. I was certain that if I explained my feelings, they would understand and appreciate my point of view.

It hasn't quite worked out like that. Yet.

So that line's had to move. That certainty's been washed away from the bank of the river and I've watched it sail past, with me not clinging to it.

I've also been practising not thinking so much. That hasn't gone too well, either. My brain just thinks about how it's not supposed to be thinking too much and that adds a layer of "Oh, I'm failing at this" to the already exhausting process of thinking too much.

So that's floated off down stream, too.

And I've also been asking for help from the angels. Yes, the angels. Yes, those angels I would have poo-poo'd slightly until recently. My Google search history has taken a sharp swerve in the past few weeks. Where it used to be places and events and people, now it's all 'Angels help get rid of negative energy', and 'How long does it take for a broken heart to heal?'

It's about as much fun as it sounds ...

But there are some laughs. The overthinking brain has its uses. Like reading about surrounding myself in white light for protection.

I read the instructions and immediately I'm confused. It says I should visualise the white light wrapping itself round my house starting on the left and going round the right.

Straight away the brain's asking: "Now, is that the left as I'm looking at the house or from the house?

"And does it really mean my house or is that a metaphor for my being?

"And, I live in a semi, so do I picture the white thing dividing my house from next door or are my neighbours in the protective bubble, too, and do they want to be and what if they don't and if the white light goes under the house from the back to the front that looks like a big loin cloth, like Gandhi, or like a big white onion round my house, so it's me, Gandhi and my neighbours all inside this loin cloth, smelling of onion, and what if they don't like onion? And what does he eat? Does he eat? Oh, I'm a bit peckish ... "

See? Not a clue ... but I'll keep practising.

Belfast Telegraph

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