Peace of serenity. Rest of the promise. Hands in action. Thoughts in balance. Almost idyllic. Actually already an idyll. Writing Lilith. Ruben carving. And life flashed past the empty store which was not quite as empty now and had a little story to tell in its own way. The story Lilith wrote. Just as the empty store, which might be empty again, would have a future, in all probability, which Ruben was preparing with his carving. No appointment. No calculation. To be there. Together. Do not measure the piece of familiarity, but be in the middle of it. When the idyll broke. When Ruben, probably more emphatically than wanted, popped his carving on the table. As Lilith, more intensely than wanted, pushed the writing sigh of herself. And the idyll got a crack.
“It just will not be the way I imagine it,” explained Ruben, because he knew that now an explanation was required of him. Good thing he had one.
“And I do not know how it goes,” said Lilith, who was in the same concept, that an explanation is always necessary. It is better to supply it immediately.
“How do you mean that?” Ruben asked, who had seen that she was writing, even if he did not know what.
“And how do you mean that?” Lilith asked, who had seen that he carved, even though she did not know what he was working on.
“I have awakened with a performance this morning. There was a picture in my head, “began Ruben frankly explaining,” It was the image of an angel. And I was sure, so I would carve the angel, you know, the one dedicated to the personal care of the little Jesus child. Of course, this can not be an ordinary angel, but a very special one, but he just does not want to become what I want. He does not even want to approach the image I have made of him. “
“And you wonder how it will be?” Lilith asked, as if she had the solution to the problem already in her pocket.
“Yes, I’m surprised,” explained Ruben, and it sounded convincing. Just as people often feel convinced of something, and thus do not see the real order of things. They simply stand in the way of their own imagination.
“I always do it like this,” he continued, unmoved, “I have an idea, and I’ll change that. It always works. It is only with this angel, who is said to have been very special, that he will not and will not succeed. “
“Try to take a closer look. Is that really true? Do you really approach your work with a very precise, concrete idea, or is it not so that you know what it is supposed to be, but the exact details only appear in the course of making. “
And because Ruben had listened to what she wanted to tell him, he calmly took his angel, or the piece of wood in which an angel was still hiding, but which was not yet visible. Quietly that was in it, which was a promise that bore something within itself, which was a figure that he saw, but no one else. All at once he realized that this performance was not to be won if he did not allow himself to be accepted.
“There is an angel in my hand, or what is to be an angel. It is in it, “said Ruben,” he is my idea, but it is also a promise. I connect the idea and what is in it. A part comes from me. Part of itself. This is the secret of success. The connection.”
“And to make you want to connect to it, you need patience,” Lilith said confidently. “You can not force it. Neither with a must, nor with exaggerated activism. It’s coming. You can only expect it. “
“You are right, patience, is the magic word,” admitted Ruben frankly, “Patience with myself and with the becoming, the opposite, the life. Not everything comes from me. So much is a gift to me when it is time. “
“Patience until the right moment has come,” Lilith added, which meant nothing more than a confirmation that she understood.
“But what about your imagination? What about what you wrote? “Ruben asked,” What made you move the beggars away from you? “
“I’ve initiated to write down the history of the empty store,” Lilith began to explain, “I was so happy, or I am still happy that there is finally a story worth posting. So that it will not be lost to me, and I may be a part of this story. So far I have written. But how is it going on? Will I really find a home here, encounters and life, or will everything be completely different again? What will be until Christmas, after Christmas? I would like to continue to write, but so much can happen. Too often I have experienced that from one to the other day everything can be different. Even if I do not want that. Even if it has nothing to do with me. One is always so dependent. Of the circumstances. From the others. Whatever. “
“And so would you like to carve the life, the future according to your ideas?” asked Ruben on his part.
“In my mind?” Lilith replied, “But you have to think about the future. You have to know what’s coming. “
“No, you do not have to,” explained Ruben, now convinced on his part, “What the future brings, we can dream of it, we can hope or even make an idea. This in itself is not a problem as long as you do not forget that it is nothing more than an idea. And there is still that which belongs to us. Not only in the piece of wood in my hand, but in what is our life, what is and what we may be anxious about. But we should stay at the moment. Everything will come when it’s time. It takes patience. “
“It’ll all come when the time is right,” Lilith said thoughtfully.
“Everything will come when we are ready for it,” Ruben added frankly, turning to face.
“For the moment,” Lilith said.
“And the togetherness,” added Ruben.
And they thought of the flower-pot, in which the seed lay in the earth. Waiting for the roots, waiting for the life that comes when it’s time to come. As a sign of patience as well, he was already in the display, so that nothing had to be added that evening. Some things are already there. And we also see it when we want to see it.