 Sharing our stories is a theme here on Soul Doors, and inspired by Jennifer Louden’s fable (posted in Be of Service), I’ll share a magical story of a little girl who believed she wasn’t enough. I hope you enjoy this little bird.
Once upon a time there was a little girl. She was a friendly, outgoing child. She wasn’t a princess. She didn’t have magic. She didn't feel like anything special. She was just a little girl. She was the youngest in her family and had a big brother who was always faster, stronger, smarter, more confident. Everyone liked him best. And she was OK with that because she liked him best too. The little girl, now not so little, was taller and heavier than the other girls in her class at school. She didn’t get good grades. She wasn’t particularly good at sports. It seemed like the other kids did better than her at most everything, and she still didn't have any magic. The girl grew to believe in not being as good as everyone else and each time she had that thought her heart faltered a little and shrank with pain. Finally, it was just too hard to be around other people and the girl, now a young woman hid her heart away in the pages of her journal. There she would pour out all the longings and pain of a young woman. She would berate herself for not being good enough, not strong enough, not pretty enough, not clever enough, not confident enough. Then after the chastisement had run its course, the words would change, and there’d be support, compassion and caring. There’d be loving ideas and insights, and she’d always feel better afterward. She'd always feel better. Maybe there is magic in me, she thought. Maybe the magic comes from deep inside, like dipping a bucket into a well and raising it up full of clear, cold water sparkling in the sun. So the young woman wrote, and she wrote. Sometimes she would be able to send her bucket down deep and bring it up brimming with that loving and compassionate magic. Sometimes the words just got jumbled up and floated about on the surface. But she kept at it for years. Her writings piled up on the floor all around her, and the young woman grew old. The old woman longed to send her writings out into the world. She longed to see the tiny birds of her words flying free. Yet as she pushed her fledglings from the edge of the nest, she heard the voice of that little girl that she had been. Her little girl asked a question, “You remember you’re not good enough don’t you?” The old woman remembered, somewhere along the way she had forgotten. How could she have forgotten? She called her tiny birds home again, gathering them close. She pulled her piles of writings around her. She huddled within and felt safe and sad. Her birds didn’t want to stay close and stay safe. They flew to the window and pecked to get out. The old woman felt her heart shrinking, but did not release them. The old woman poured out her sadness in writing. What else could she do? She wrote and she wrote. The magic welled up from within her and spilled out onto the pages, becoming more and more tiny birds. They flit about the room, filling the air with their drumming wing beats. They flew to the window looking for a way to get out, beating their iridescent wings against the glass. There were so many now that the old woman was afraid they would come to harm. Yet, she knew there would be no safety for them outside. There were too many birds out there, bigger, stronger, faster, better. How could her little birds survive? Perhaps they wouldn’t, she thought. But this is no life for them, trapped in a room with an old woman. She walked to the window and threw it open wide. Her birds flowed outward, a miracle of shining wings. She saw them dance in the air with delight, rising and dipping, then zipping off in all directions. She felt her heart expand as she breathed deeply of the fresh air. Joyful tears dripped into the creases of the old woman’s cheeks as she watched her birds fly free. Sighing and smiling, the old woman left the window wide open and sat down to write once again. ©Holly Hildreth 2019
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