I think there’s a misconception that revelation is born only through theatrical means. However, I have, in perpetuity, witnessed the experience of divinity through the most subtle of exposures.
The wise understand it is far better to catch God in the whisper. Therefore, tuning into transcendence first requires vigilance. Here and now is the time-space continuum in which miracles are born; nevertheless, an unassuming blink of dry eyes may result in missing the opportunity of a lifetime. Today, I will share with you one of my moments of salvation so that, from now on, you may look for God in the seemingly trivial aspects of your life, for this is His dwelling place.
Up until this point in the book I had been writing, I hadn’t experienced writer’s block nor any sort of cessation in my creative flow. My mind was like the exhilarating, free-flowing white rapids of the Rockies. Interestingly enough, the chapter I was writing at the time was entitled “Finding the Flow.” My fingers seemed possessed, effortlessly landing on their preordained points without pause or hesitation:
“Gentle and harmonic, the energy of God is in constant flow, resembling the tender rhythmic cadence of a heartbeat or the subtly shifting ocean currents…”
So, as I’m writing this section about flow—while also being in this deep, intrinsic state of flow—seemingly out of nowhere, as if I were Sunday cruising with the convertible top down, singing “Pocketful of Sunshine” by Natasha Bedingfield, a Mack truck runs the red light and T-bones me at the intersection.
Everything stops.
No more flow.
No more rhythm.
No more heartbeat.
My creative pulse flatlined.
I remember feeling extremely frustrated that everything just stopped. I had it in my mind that I needed to finish this book by some subconscious, concrete deadline—or else. I paced around in indignation until a subtle resolve returned to me, like the first day of spring after an inhospitable winter.
“Wait,” I reasoned, “since this chapter is about flow, and I’m clearly not experiencing it right now… maybe I just need to let go.”
With a reluctant acceptance, I decided to give in to the circumstances and retreat to my bedroom—and this is where I experienced a miracle.
The heavens didn’t open, nor did the Spirit of God descend upon me like a dove. Instead, I saw what appeared to be a giant mosquito trapped in my room, frantically attempting to persuade my light-blue walls that they were, in fact, the sky. But what came next might as well have been Mark’s Gospel of the baptism of Jesus.
I grabbed a cup and a sheet of paper in an attempt to liberate my new winged friend, but the closer I got to becoming the hand of God for her, the more her hysteria pushed her away from deliverance. Fifteen minutes of failed rescue attempts left me standing still, saying aloud:
“Just land and relax so I can take you where you’re trying to go.”
In that moment, something profound was conveyed to me.
I heard an internal voice say:
“You see, this is how you humans are. You become so frantic about what you need to accomplish and how you’re going to get there. You get caught on the means. You get anxious about the timing. You keep hitting your head against the wall, sometimes in an attempt to force reality to bend to your will. All the while, I just sit here and wait to take you there. All you have to do is stop trying to force things so much. I am here, watching and waiting to help you. Just let go…”
Immediately following this internal dialogue, my atypically shaped mosquito friend stopped trying to escape and rested long enough for me to scoop her up and place her outside.
I paused for a moment in disbelief.
Reflecting on the moment, I knew it held a deeply profound truth: I am like that sometimes—well, honestly, a lot. At times, I believe I need to obtain something or become somebody in order to be happy. Sometimes my mind fixates on a specific goal that I feel I must accomplish to gain fulfillment.
That experience with a small, winged bug taught me that I’m usually the only one standing in my own way.
The Universe—the essence of everything in creation—is here to help us, and it knows where we want to go and, more importantly, where we need to go.
My mosquito friend didn’t need to tell me she wanted to go outside. She didn’t have to explain how much freedom meant to her. I understood exactly what she wanted the moment I saw her.
Hence, if I could understand the needs of a bug simply because I reside in an assumably higher state of consciousness than she does, what shall we say of our relationship with God?
If something isn’t working, or you feel like you keep hitting a roadblock no matter how hard you try, remember the story of my friend, the Crane Fly.
The Divine—Jesus, God, Muhammad, Buddha, whatever name you give your source—know that they are simply waiting for you to let go of the route, the timing, and the method of your deliverance.
Until you realize this and settle your spirit in the domicile of trust, you will always feel trapped, your dreams just out of reach.
But the moment you do realize this will be the same moment in which you are gifted your emancipation.
Right after that experience with the Crane Fly, my creative flow was restored, and I had learned an invaluable lesson.
Yes, the book was going to be impactful and helpful to people—but what I had to realize is that I was not supposed to, nor could I ever, force myself into greatness.
Because I was already enough.
That constant seeking, striving, worrying, obsessing, and searching for true freedom and love is an issue we all struggle with as human beings.
Perhaps it is time to let go.
