Uncentered

I feel off-balance today.  I can't make things stop spinning.  There is so much to do, so much to process, so much to finish well.  It's more than that - more than the daily barrage of to-do lists coupled with the lifelong dreams yet fulfilled (which do I choose, where do I focus - the life or the daily?).  It's something even deeper.  I am grieving.

No, no one has died (recently).  It's not that kind of grief.  It's the grief of change, the grief that accompanies transition.  One season is ending and another is beginning, but neither the ending nor the beginning are complete.  As a result, I have not fully let go nor fully laid hold.  I am in process.  I am both letting go and laying hold.  Where should my hands hold next?  What do I fill them with?  Both or neither?  For I can not choose one, not yet.  It is not that time.

So sometimes I simply sit.  Wait.  Observe.  Hold nothing.  Feel nothing.  Process nothing.  Wait.  Breathe.  Wait.  Breathe.

At other times I engage.  Feel the pain, feel the loss, but feel the hope as well.  Dare to be brave enough to hope.  And then to be loving enough to try.  To seek after that which you want because you love yourself that much.

I wait.  I observe.  I realize.  This is not just about letting go of a season; this is specific.

I experienced a loss yesterday: I felt the pain of rejection in an acute way; my bravery faltered.  "Perhaps I am deluded.  Perhaps this is just a colossal waste time.  Perhaps I don't have the heart to put my creations out there again and again and again."

My heart is breaking.  So much so that I can not be specific with you, dear Reader.  Not yet.  I must simply wait breathe wait breathe and try, engage, hope.