In the morning I set off toward the new office in a celebratory mood. Moving always has its own special feeling: something closes, something opens.
As I drove between meadows and forests breathing out the dawn mist, a precise and detailed inner film suddenly began to play in me — scenes I was not physically present in, yet I was involved in them.
I saw and heard phone conversations, agreements, hurried movements.
Nothing about it was surprising: this is how background scenes unfold. And my absence is never an obstacle to seeing — to knowing — what is happening.
By the time I arrived, the inner film had already said everything. I knew what was waiting for me, that the possibility of choice had been taken away. And when I stepped into the new office, everything stood exactly as it had run through me on the way: occupied faces, tight silence, and the energy of actions already completed.
The chair was waiting. The “leftover.”
The bright place in front of the large display cabinet — floating in light — where everyone passing by can see you. The visible point someone else gave up, left behind, perhaps because it was too open, too exposed, too honest.
I sat down. And as I looked at the impressive villas on the hillside, at the world opening in front of me, a man walking on the sidewalk smiled at me — and I understood something.
The background always feels safe to those who are used to being there. To operate from silence, to watch from behind the curtain, to make space, to step back, to let others go first.
But from this new space, the corner I once believed in looked like nothing more than a grey hollow, from which only tiny fragments of the world can be seen. Nothing but habit.
You don’t need to know how it happens. Circumstances arrange themselves so that you arrive exactly where you truly have work to do. Even the movements that seem (apparently) against you are, in truth, preparing an arrival — yours. The universe reads intention precisely — just as it reads words, explanations, and silence.
There I sat in the light, filled with a simple, peaceful joy. Not because I fought my way there, played games, or stepped over anyone. I didn’t need secret alliances either. I was there because I arrived — at the place reserved for me.
This happens to you, too.
And often it is made possible — willingly or unknowingly — by those who look only after their own interests.
I am grateful. Because on my own, I would have given away the light again.
~Ildikó Dajbukát
Spirit touch healing
Photo: Pinterest
