It was a delicately tied bow I was constantly tending to, making sure it stayed in tact and did not unravel. It required constant attention, a simple tug of the loose end would cause it to come completely apart. So I took on the full-time role of retightening it each time it came even a little bit loose.
Until that one day when it finally unraveled. It was time. It was the very thing I feared so greatly leading up to it, because I knew once undone it would never be again, and I wasn’t sure who I would be without it. I felt the loss instantly, and for years I would painfully long to return to the presence of its sparkle.
Yet, in that moment, there was something else. To let go of this heavy responsibility in ensuring it’s perfect form, and attempting to prevent the inevitable destruction that was constantly looming, brought an undeniable sense of relief.
This I knew I could not ignore anymore. What I was denying in my surroundings in order to keep my attention on the survival of that carefully constructed bow now garnered my attention. In dropping the load that consumed my gaze, I could now to tend to all the knots that had become tangled around my ankles in their dismissal.
