It’s an old story. Old as the hills. And yet new every time it tells itself again.
Have you heard it told to you lately?
The clouds have gathered, thick and dark, on your skies. They’re banked up and rolling heavy to your horizon. Maybe the rains have already started, pouring their grief over everything you know and soaking it all through with shadows. And then maybe the wind starts up. The lightning. It seems everything is going wrong at once.
It’s hard to imagine ever riding out this storm.
And yet, if the story has its way, there will come a moment. A moment you might not notice at first. A moment that can start out smaller than small. But it’s enough.
Enough to invite a shift – an infinitessimal shift – that’s almost no shift at all. Except that it is.
So something tiny changes.
And somehow that awakens the next little change.
Until, gradually, all these fragile moments come together – like countless particles of light converging – almost invisible on their own. But together, slowly, they can start to pull the temperature of your day in a warmer direction. Together, they start to matter.
They build to a tipping point and spill over, pouring colour into what was once only grey.
And suddenly, inexplicably, the storm is lifting.
Somehow everything has changed again. There’s a new beginning again; perhaps even more beautiful for the dark place it’s come out of.
And now, seemingly out of nowhere, a banner of multicoloured hope is arcing through your sky…
This is the story so many of us know. It’s a story I sometimes hear from my clients, and sometimes have felt myself. The other day, on a rainy Sunday afternoon, it was a story that reminded me it would not be forgotten, as the monochrome moods of clouds were hijacked by a rainbow that snuck up out of nowhere.
And maybe, even if all you can see around you is grey, maybe this story is in the process of telling itself to you, too…