We found James scared, on the duvet, on the bed. Was he scared? Just plain scared? We know that a fence imprisons the sheep of a meadow as much as it protects them. But we didn’t know how to name that fence, let alone let him jump it. How could we help him..
‘I know I don’t look it, but deep down I do am happy and excited,’ James reassured us. ‘Because yesterday I had this amazing talk with Potamotrygorgeous, and I see that finally things are settling in. It’s becoming more clear who belongs to whom, and whose feelings are whose. And the jumping part.. mäh.. not really up for that, no..’
‘I got something even better though. I know that if you use the energy that is wrongly used to tie you down, to hold you back, if you turn that force around, it can be used as energy boost forwards. It’s like letting go of an elastic you pulled to the fullest stretch. Your choice, you can either let it hit the flesh, or you can catapult yourself out of here. No jumping needed.’
‘Everything that Potamotrygorgeous needs to know is already there. There simply needed to be a word for it.
‘A good herder shows itself by have the discernment when to blow softly forwards and hold gently back. A good herder takes only pride out of the equation when all that has happened adds up to stepping out into the world. Why would I be sad? Isn’t it more sad if I only think about my own well-being? And how well is that being if I need Potamotrygorgeous around all the time? I would never be whole by myself. And I am.’
‘So one could say: I am whole, therefore I am happy.’
‘I know who I am, as a sheep, as James, I am so much more than James. I am the tears of Potamotrygorgeous. I am the strength of Potamotrygorgeous. I am the pain of Potamotrygorgeous. I am the silence of Potamotrygorgeous. I am the memory of Potamotrygorgeous. I am James. I am a sheep.’
‘And as a mother sheep takes pride in her little mäh fending for himself, and doesn’t feel rejected, but crowned in her work, the same way I am proud. For my work is in progress.’
‘Potamotrygorgeous, the angst you see in my eyes, the fear.. trust me, they are not mine, but yours.’