There are two ways to move through this life.
You can live like a mountain or you can live like a river.
And if you're a highly sensitive person,
Everything depends on which one of these you choose.
Let me show you what I mean.
The mountain wants to arrive.
It fixes its eyes on the summit far in the distance and says,
When I reach that.
.
.
When I finally get there,
I will finally be who I am.
When I get through that gate,
When I am chosen,
When I am paid for my work,
When the world lets me in,
Then I will begin,
Then life will begin.
And so the mountain stands rigid,
Strained upwards,
Waiting for permission that never ever comes.
It sees ironclad gates everywhere,
Sealed doors everywhere,
Gatekeepers who fold their arms and say,
No,
Not you,
You do not get to come through these gates.
And the mountain looks at those gates and it says.
.
.
Well,
Then,
Uh.
.
.
What's the point?
If I can't get through the gate or the door.
Then I cannot be what I am.
The river does something entirely different.
The river does not wait for the summit it does not stand and strain it simply moves because moving is its nature and it trusts that the moving is enough Wouldn't it be to rot?
It does not stop and declare the journey is over.
It goes around it.
It flows around it.
When it meets a wall,
It finds the crack,
The crevice,
The smallest opening,
And it pours through.
The river reaches the sea not by forcing a single gate but by never stopping and never needing any one particular gate to be open.
It gets there because it never stopped being.
Aritha.
And here is why this matters so much for you.
If you are one of the deeply feeling humans,
You are a weaver of webs between worlds.
You always have been.
You are the kind of soul who can look at the sun and know that,
Yes,
It's a great big ball of fire hurtling through space.
And also feel that it means something.
That it carries a significance no telescope will ever measure.
You feel the magic in the moon and the stars.
You sense the other worlds pressing gently against this one.
The fairies in the hedge.
The creatures in the undergrowth,
The aliveness in things that others simply walk straight past.
And this is not childishness or whimsy.
This is a rare and genuine gift.
Is the oldest gift there is and you may well have been slaughtered for it as a child or told you were a dreamer told to come back down to earth told to stop making things up.
But that weaving is what you are,
Isn't it?
It is not a hobby you might one day be allowed to do.
It is your nature.
It is you.
And here is where so many sensitive people go wrong.
They take this beautiful gift.
This web they have woven between worlds magically.
They carry it straight to the foot of the great big sealed gate.
And they stand there.
Holding something.
Genuinely magical in their hands and they wait for the gatekeeper to let them in.
To publish them.
To pay them to approve them.
Acknowledge them to make it official and when the gate does not open they look down at the wonder in their hands And they say,
Well.
.
.
What was the point?
That is the mountain talking.
That is the mountain.
And the mountain will keep you standing at the gate for the rest of your life.
So let me tell you about a woman who lived like a river.
She was an artist.
She painted extraordinary things,
Visions that were years if not light years ahead of anything else being made in her time and she never showed her work,
Not once,
Not while she lived.
She was not waiting for a gate to open.
She was not straining towards a summit of fame or fortune.
She simply did the work because the work was who she was.
She poured it out year after year for no audience at all.
And long after she was gone,
Her paintings found their way into some of the greatest art collections in the world.
But she never saw that.
She never needed to.
She had already received everything the work had to give in the doing of it.
That is the river.
And that is the secret that sets you free.
Here's the truth that the mountain can never ever understand to receive is to give and to give.
To receive.
This is not some clever play on words.
It's the most practical thing I can tell you.
When you create,
You are giving,
And in the very act of giving,
You are,
Of course,
Receiving at the exact same time,
Simultaneously.
The reward is not somewhere on the far side of a gate,
The reward is in the creating itself.
In giving yourself the space to make the thing.
You have already received the whole of it.
To stop waiting to be let in.
And notice I did not say stop doing there is a great difference between trying and doing Trying is a mountain word.
Trying strains towards a result,
Toward an outcome,
Toward a gate that must open or be opened for you.
And trying,
By its very nature,
Creates resistance.
Because it is.
Always reaching for something that it does not yet have.
This is why so much of the world's talk of wishing and manifesting is a quiet lie.
It keeps you sitting there wishing for the summit,
Straining towards a result,
While the whole time the river was right beneath your feet.
Ready to carry you.
So do not try,
Do not strain towards the outcome.
Let go of any expectation of where it all leads and then freed from that weight.
Simply do.
Weave your webs between those worlds because that is what you are.
Not because someone is waiting to pay you for it.
Make the thing for the joy and the giving of it.
Pour yourself out like a river,
Around every rock,
Through every crack,
Never stopping,
Never needing one particular gate to open,
Because the mountain waits its whole life for permission to truly begin.
The river was already home the moment it started to move.
Be the river.
Do your work.
Give it freely and understand all the way down that in the giving you have already received everything you were ever chasing.
You do not need the gate.
You never did.
The river always reaches the sea.
Always.
Why?
Because it is the sea already,
Isn't it?
