A very long time ago, in a galaxy millions of light years from here, there was a horse named Pegasus. Pegasus was no ordinary horse, he was a winged horse, and he had the ability to fly very high and very far. I say ‘ability’ because, even though his kind flew everywhere, even to the farthest corners of the Cosmos, he never flew much at all. You see, Pegasus was afraid of falling, and so he spent his days trotting and galloping a lot, and occasionally he would make short flights through the valley near his meadow. This was fine by him until he reached puberty.
So it came, that one day he stood on a huge rock on a hill, staring sadly in the distance, a tiny tear even rolled down his cheek. In his contemplation he did not notice his elder siblings flying way beyond the sun.
Why do they have the courage to fly like that, while I don’t?” he asked in a lamenting tone.
While Pegasus got caught up in his sadness, a poet appeared right beside him. At first Pegasus did not notice him, until the poet cleared his throat to gain his attention.
“Who are you?” Pegasus asked somewhat shaken.
“I am the master poet of the whole Cosmos Pegasus,” the poet replied in a friendly way.
“Oh, and how do you know my name?”
“We of the temple of the art of poetry all know your name as well as the names of all winged horses.”
This surprised Pegasus. Temple? Art of poetry? Know his name? The master poet saw the inquisitive look in Pegasus’s eyes, and put him at ease.
“A very long time ago, when everything originated from the Source, the art of poetry and the winged horses came into being,” the master poet began to explain. “They may not be a very likely combination, but they need each other.”
On hearing the latter, Pegasus raised his eyebrows, he sensed an important message lay in these words.
“The poets need you to lift them to greater heights in their development,” the master poet continued. “You lead them to the Source where they are given all that they come to write.”
Pegasus then opened his mouth to speak, but the master poet beat him to it.
“Yes, I see what you wish to ask Pegasus,” he said with a smile. Now Pegasus smiled too, he liked this master poet with his sagacious words. “In turn, you need the poets, and you want to know why, don’t you?”
Pegasus nodded his head by means of an answer, and hung on the master poet’s lips.
“Without encouragement by the poets you are unable to let go of the natural fear of flying. So, the poets show you images of you flying to the Source to enable you to surrender to your divine gift of flying.”
Now Pegasus became very happy. He felt his heart swelling, and already saw himself flying amongst billions of glittering stars, with a poet on his back, towards the Source itself.
“Wow...!” he cried instantly. “I want to do that too, mister poet,” he said as he began to stamp his hooves in enthusiasm.
The master poet laughed heartily. He knew that the winged horses who had the greatest fear of flying, were often the high-flyers, so to speak.
“Well then, I’ll help you Pegasus. I must ask you to close your eyes.”
Pegasus did as he was told.
“Imagine when you were a young foal.”
The master poet had only just spoken when a warm, happy smile appeared on Pegasus’s face.
“Do you remember your mother getting you to gallop for the very first time?”
In Pegasus’s face the master poet read that Pegasus remembered this very well.
“Then you will also remember that you didn’t feel any fear, instead you simply believed you could do so. You knew you could gallop, and, after falling a few times, you simply went and did it.”
That was how it happened indeed, Pegasus remembered.
“Well, now you will do the same, only this time you will focus on flying to the Source. And actually, this is much easier, because your origins lie in the Source. Now, imagine yourself flying amongst the stars Pegasus,” the master poet asked of him.
Pegasus did this and within moments he suddenly felt himself being lifted up. Without beating his wings, he came very high off the ground. He opened his eyes and laughed with joy.
“I can do it! I can do it!” he shouted looking down.
The master poet laughed too and shouted: “Now you see Pegasus, you only have to picture it with all your heart and it will happen. This is what surrendering is all about, son.”
At the same time, Pegasus sheared past his new master in a dive, making him bend down to avoid being hit.
“OK Pegasus!” the master poet shouted firmly, “you can come down now to pick me up!”
Pegasus responded immediately, and only a second later he was standing next to the master poet.
“Brrrr, brrrr,” he snorted while he let the poet onto his back.
“Now we will go to the Source!” the master poet cried, pointing to the sky. And that is what they did, so that Pegasus not only mastered his gift of flying, but the art of sweet surrender as well.
Surrender – U2
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