The imagination can be both wonderful and terrible. Like a wild horse that could take you far if broken, or if it had its way, toss and break its rider. As a child and beyond I didn't know my imagination could and should have limits. A lot of the time imagination controlled me, mostly in painting vivid, fearful scenarios for which I was bound to produce a survival plan in the private terror of my mind.
While I've become very good at resourcefulness and problem solving, I much regret those years of subservience. I was a willing hostage to the wiles of my own thoughts. A lot of energy was wasted running mental and emotional errands for ideas that had no real authority over me, not to mention being totally void of Truth & Beauty.
Today I'm still waiting to hear news, anything really, from some loved ones who are in southern Africa. The communication turn-about has been longer than usual, though still just days. Fear knocks at the storehouse of my mind. Throws out some possibilities and asks me to check inventory for solutions. I pause. Consider better uses for my resources. And firmly shut the door.
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