“It wasn’t me!” I protested loudly, to rival the denial by the popular reggae artiste. The only difference is that I was not trying to be deceptive, I truly believed it wasn’t me. Also, it was for positive endeavours, not some unsavoury shenanigans.
But it had my name all over it. “It wasn’t me.” It was on all my social media pages. “It wasn’t me.” It’s my handwriting. “It wasn’t me.” I was in the picture. “It wasn’t me.” That was all I could say. What about the video, with my voice, my movements, my trademark shifting of the glasses from the bridge of my nose? Well, in that case, I reluctantly conceded that it probably was me after all!
But how could it be me? I can’t do that, I don’t know how to do that, I have never been taught that. Maybe someone else, but me? And some of it is good, I mean beautiful, beautiful work! Even if I do say so myself.
But honestly, truth be told, jokes and exaggeration aside, I struggled to believe I did it. I kept looking and asking, “Did I do that? Did I?” Yes, I did! or maybe I didn’t, maybe it wasn’t me after all, maybe I was right, maybe it was divinity working through me.
As we release and apply ourselves, we give divinity, ‘the creative force’, the opportunity to work through us and we become a vessel fit for purpose, able to observe and partake of the extraordinary.
It wasn’t me, it was God.
Beautiful Ivory 