The Art of Grace
The sky is my hometown for my wishes. I wait for days for my lashes to fall onto my cheeks, just so I can place them on the back of my closed fist and blow them into the sky, wrapped in my deepest longing.
I perform it as a ritual━
I make sure to find a corner where I can be alone,
I make sure my hands are dry,
I make sure my wish is sincere,
I make sure I stand facing the open sky,
I make sure to blow the lash as far away as I can, and
I make sure to never speak of these act to anyone.
Yet, it always seems like my wishes have their own lives to live, I free them of their binds when I blow them away, and then they just play around in the sky for a bit before they fall to the ground.
So, these days I wonder if the ground is the giver, if everything we want comes out where we stand. I wonder if the people whose wishes come true just never waited for their lashes to fall, and lived instead, not praying for there to be wind beneath their wings, but being grateful for the ground beneath their feet.
Someone once told me, “We must believe in the power of using some way to explicity ask the universe for something we want. And we must believe that that act of asking is a form of manifestation and, conducted frequently enough, moves us into concrete action that ultimately fulfills our wishes.”
I am very supersitious about wishing on falling eyelashes, and I always wish on them very sincerely. These wishes don’t always come true, and even when they do I can never exclusively attribute them to the act of wishing.
So keep wishing, wish for something so often that you end up doing something about it. And, then watch. As the magic unfolds.