I could hear it faintly calling me. Tender notes of musical poetry being lured from the strings of a harp into the Barcelona night air by the hands of a 24-year old entrepreneur named Guillaumme. He was sending sounds out of his instrument that mirrored the beauty of prayers being lifted up to God. It took me away from the lovely conversation I was having with 3 out of the 14 people who were all inhabiting our temporary home together for the last 3 weeks. I had been sleeping on the back terrace on a chaise lounge with my blanket and pillow for the last several nights because the breeze, the moon and the stars made me feel like I was sleeping in God’s lap while He lovingly stroked my hair (dreads, extensions, hair products and all). That alone was a unique gift, but now I was hearing harp music playing out on the terrace? It was as if God was whispering in my ear “Oh, my sweet child, I have so much more for you. You have NO IDEA.”
I wasn’t going to waste that opportunity to receive such a gift, so I grabbed my blanket and pillow and rushed outside to lie down and take in the musical confetti that was swirling all around and gently landing on my spirit. I stretched my body out on the blanket and took a deep breath in….then exhaled with a smile. The stars were magnificent, the breeze was a comforting expression of connection, the sounds I was hearing put me in a state of beauty and peace and the cherry on top was the fact that Guillaumme is not only a dear friend that I’ve come to know in the last few weeks, but he is also an angel and not just because he plays and owns a harp. He has so many qualities that are like that of a child and he expresses that nature of himself so beautifully and perfectly. One of many ways he does that is he invites other people to re-enter their own state of childhood wonder that none of us should ever disconnect from in the first place. He is an invitation to life. And now I was being sung to sleep by his harp and it felt like he was playing it just for me. It could not have been more perfect. And then God’s playfully twisted sense of humor happened. I heard some laughing from a few floors up. That might’ve added to the beauty of the moment if not for the fact that the laughter sounded like what fingernails on a chalkboard might sound like if it were personified as the most obnoxious female person you can dream up in your mind. And she was not alone. I began to hear what sounded like an army of cackling, howling women carry on as if their whole agenda was to drown out every sound possible within a 5-mile radius with their voices. Guillaumme’s harp-playing continued. He did not not stop playing just because they were poisoning the sound waves.
I looked up at the sky and gave God a request: “Please make these bitches stop. This is not something that happens every day and I just want this moment. Please.” I waited. More cackling. I started thinking about how good it might feel to throw a rock at their window with a note reading “The next one will be aimed at your big mouth and there’s no way I can miss.” Then I thought about how I might sound if I were up there with them joining in the party. I’m pretty sure I would sound exactly like them. They were just a bunch of women (my Earth sisters) having fun and enjoying life. They had no idea they were jacking my God moment. I asked again (but more lovingly): “Please make them go out or shut the window or something.” The hen party continued.
And then it occurred to me: “Don’t waste this precious time concentrating on what you don’t want. Focus on what you want.” I wanted to revel in the beautiful art of an angel. So that’s what I did. I let the ladies have their moment and I had mine. When I let go of wanting what I wanted in a specific kind of way, I got to enjoy it in the exact way it was being presented to me. What a waste it would have been if I had allowed those women who were merely enjoying each other to ruin the moment of profound beauty I was experiencing. What’s even better is that, when I chose what I wanted, even what had originally started as an annoyance had merely become another thing to feel happy about – there were women upstairs enjoying life and each other. What’s not to love about that? It was a moment I will never forget in my lifetime. It was beautiful. And it was also a lesson.
We all have opportunities every single day to choose what we want and when we do that, we often transcend even that which we don’t want into something to be grateful for. We get to choose. No one can choose for you. Choose what you want…every fucking time…and you will create magic you did not realize was there. It’s always there waiting for you in a pretty package. We may see that package but we fail to see our name on it. It reads: “Dear (insert your name here), I made this just for you. Please accept it as an expression of my deep and wild love for you. You don’t have to accept it, but it is just for you. No one else can receive it but you, and, should you choose to receive it, you will have more to give to others. But you have to receive it first before they will benefit from it. You get to choose. Love, God.”