Therapy Bits

Thanks Sadje for hosting what do you see each week!

What do you see # 281- 24th March, 2025 – Keep it alive

Once upon a time, in a quaint village, there stood an old bridge that spanned a gentle river. This bridge, crafted from weathered stone and wood, was a beloved crossing for villagers and travelers alike. Yet perched upon its railing, amidst the moss and the occasional rustle of leaves, sat a little grey figurine. To any passerby, it might have seemed just another piece of forgotten art, but to the figurine, it was a perch for contemplation.

The figurine was shaped like a small rabbit, with big, round eyes that seemed to hold a universe of wisdom. It had been there for many years, greeting the dawn while the sun cast ribbons of gold across the water, and bidding farewell to the twilight as stars began to twinkle overhead. Each day was a tapestry of life playing out before it. Laughter, tears, hurried footsteps, and leisurely strolls all painted the air with stories.

On this particular day, as a fresh breeze swept through the village, the little grey rabbit stared across the river, watching the ripples as they danced in the sunlight. "How strange," it pondered in the silence of its solidarity, "that this river flows on unbidden, carrying the burdens and joys of those who come to rest or cross. It is alive, yet it moves without thought."

The rabbit reflected on its own existence. "I, too, am a part of this world," it mused. "Though I cannot move, I bear witness to the lives unfolding around me. Some might see me as insignificant, just a grey hunk of stone, but I have seen the same children who once laughed running through the fields, now grow into adults with wistful smiles as they pause to admire the river. Their stories touch me, keep me company in this stillness."

Just then, a young girl, perhaps no more than eight, approached the bridge. Her blonde hair danced in the wind, and she clutched a crumpled piece of paper. Her eyes were clouded with worry. The figurine watched as she stood at the edge of the railing, looking down into the water as if hoping to find answers within its depths.

“What burdens you, child?” the figurine thought, wishing it had the power to speak, to comfort her. It longed to share its own wisdom, to tell her that life is a river, winding and unpredictable, sometimes rushing with the force of a storm, other times drifting languidly under the sun.

As if sensing the rabbit’s gaze, the girl lifted her head. She didn’t notice the figurine, of course, but she felt a shift in the air around her. She took a deep breath and unfolded the crumpled paper with trembling hands. Scribbled across it were words that once carried her youthful dreams—dreams of being a painter, of capturing beauty in every stroke of her brush. But self-doubt had crept in over the months, whispering that her talent was feeble, that she would never create anything worthy of admiration.

With a heavy heart, she crumpled the paper again, preparing to cast it into the river as an offering of her surrender. But before she could release it, the figurine seemed to shimmer ever so slightly in the sunlight, a spark of grey against the vibrant greens and blues around her.

Intrigued, the girl leaned closer, noticing the little rabbit perched on the railing. What had drawn her attention was not just its presence, but the way it seemed to radiate a quiet strength, a resolute assurance within its inanimate form.

“Perhaps,” she whispered to herself, pondering the meaning behind this small grey figure, “even the smallest of things can endure.” She couldn’t quite explain it, but in that moment, something stirred inside her. She felt as if the rabbit was encouraging her not to give up.

With newfound resolve, she placed the crumpled paper in her pocket instead of casting it away. She would not let fear drown her dreams. The river may flow freely, but she would choose to forge her own path, one brushstroke at a time.

As the girl turned to leave, the figurine’s heart swelled in the quiet of the day. It realized that its existence, though seemingly small and still, had touched another life—a reminder that even in silence, there lies the power of observation and the influence of presence.

With resolve similar to that of the young girl, the grey rabbit prepared for another day of contemplation, ready to bear witness to all that life would continue to unfold. It sat there, patiently awaiting the next passerby, smiling in its stillness, knowing that every life it touched was one more thread woven into the rich tapestry of existence.