Where there’s a soul in trouble, she’ll be there. Where there’s personal POWER to be gained, she’ll be there. Where there’s a willing spirit in Ego’s clutches, she’ll be there. Where there’s work to be done for the world, the Ego Wrangler will save the day.
(First fantasy allegories and now western spoofs…what’s this blog coming to?? Does the quest for personal POWER know no bounds?)
I rode toward the sunset on my trusty steed, POWER, ready for the day to be over. Though, of course, the Ego Wrangler ‘s job is never truly done. Whether in dreaming or waking the Wrangler battles Ego’s stranglehold and destroys Ego’s grip on the willing. Ego never rests, so neither do I.
The day began like any other. I met a few minor egos in the morning before breakfast, but nothing a quick heart-centered conversation couldn’t handle. Most egos get it now. They puff up their chests and attempt bravado, but one whiff of my no-nonsense POWER presence and they quiver. It’s more of a game now than anything.
Then after lunch I met a particularly pesky one. This one tried all the tricks. First it acted interested in what I was saying, until we got to the part about authenticity. Then it started yawning and whispering to its host body that it really needed a nap. I stopped it right there in its tracks. Then it grew angry but first tried to hide it behind a hurt facade.
Tears, always the tears. When will Ego learn? I brought the conversation back to the underlying fear and that really ticked it off. No more Mr. Nice Ego. It launched into a slew of finger-pointing and blaming. Nothing I hadn’t dealt with before. I reached deep into my bag of tricks and found my story-stopping lasso (kinda like a truth-lasso…but that’s someone else).
Ego caught one glimpse of the rope and started to run. It hid behind the spleen (like I haven’t seen that before) then it ran behind the knee. Finally I lured it out with the easiest trick in the book…pride.
“Hey, Ego, I thought you said you weren’t scared. If you have nothing to fear and you’re not spreading your toxic stories, why are you running?” (Ego can’t resist taunts.)
As soon as he popped up to retort, I roped him. He fought and kicked, squirmed and punched. But as the knowledge that he’d been caught finally sunk in, I felt his resistance falter. When he finally fell quiet, I gently asked, “Can we talk now?”
Spirit peeked out from behind the trappings of protection as they faded.
“I knew you’d come. Thank you for freeing me.”
All in a day’s work, ma’am, all in a day’s work.