Meet Gulliveretta. She’s big. Much bigger than almost everything around her. Because she is so very, very big and so very, very strong, she was told she can move mountains to get where she wants to go.
Gulliveretta did that for a while, leveling the landscape. It was time-consuming, upsetting, and messy, dirty work. She destroyed many living things each time she kicked and punched a mountain down. It made her miserable.
She stopped moving mountains.
Yet Gulliveretta will stand at the level crossing of a model train set and wait for the oncoming train to pass.
As big as she is, she’s afraid to step over the railway line until the train that is as small as it is (garden snake size) has slithered by on matchstick-thin tracks. She believes her life and limbs are in danger if she crosses the line.
Gulliveretta was told so many things that make her afraid to move. If she does move, she is expected to move mountains. She doesn’t do that anymore.
And then, when she walks where there are no mountains, she comes to a standstill until a phantom obstacle that is nothing but a ghost from her past, has passed.
She’s stumped and stuck.
Nobody told her she needn’t move anything that can be stepped over or sidestepped; which is almost everything around her, including the mountains.
If only she saw the world around her as it really is and not through the magnifying glass everybody else looks through – a lens that makes the world look monstrous and frightening, a threat – she’d be well on her way.
Maybe she needs somebody who sees the world differently, somebody with fresh eyes, to show her the true nature of things, their true size?
Gulliveretta reminds me to keep challenges in perspective, to see the true scale of things.
I’m alert to drama queen antics (in myself and others), and focus on the action required to express and live what makes me happy and sane.
If I think along the lines of now, now, let’s not make a mountain out of a molehill, or stick to the facts please, I’m inclined to look for solutions sooner, step out of my comfort zone, and worry less…
…most of the time.
Toodle-oo, I love you (and Gulliveretta).