God of light, the unseen critics stand on my shoulder. They lean on my back; they are heavy, they are strong. They squeeze my head until it hurts. They shake a finger in my face. They clutch at my ankles so that every step forward is an effort. They crowd my brain until the river of creativity slows to a trickle and threatens to dry up altogether. God of acceptance and power, remove the unseen critics. Only you have the power to displace these long established residents. But I believe that if you make me free, I will be free indeed. Amen.
Gentleness isn’t fragile
1 week ago