I feel like a ping pong ball in the game of life. I’ve bounced from situation to situation, moved or been slammed by circumstances beyond my control. The paddlers spin, roll and squash me without a hint of remorse.
“Lighten up,” says my Higher Self, who aims me at her opponents rather than the table.
Now, my HS knows how to hit a ball. Just because I tickle the hairs coming out of her adversary’s ear, the opponent presumes my HS’s aim is imperfect.
Not so. My HS was aiming for those ear hairs, no closer, no farther, just to see how precise her aim was.
However, this gets me in trouble, because opponent then has an attitude. I become the weapon. Challenger then tries to use me to hit my HS, but with the aim of a man shooting blindfolded. (041007)