Oh dear me. How good are our intentions. How high our expectations.
And then reality hits.
I planned to vlog (yes, that’s such a crazy weird word, but it’s part of our social vocabularly) regularly and when I went to post today’s video I saw that it’s been …what’s 34 minus 9? That many weeks since my last “pregnancy journey video.”
Partly I hadn’t posted anything because, well, it’s been a happily uneventful pregnancy. But probably 50% of the reason is because I haven’t wanted to look “camera ready.” So I’m basically admitting to laziness. True. Ain’t proud of it, but with not much to say and no desire to do hair and make up JUST for a video… meh.
If you’ve been following my previous blog posts, you’ll notice a recurring theme has been transition and transformation. Well, heck howdy, I could write a book on what’s been going on there, inside my head and heart. But not yet. It’s all still processing and too fresh for much more than the occasional, “hey, let me share this insight that you might find helpful in your life.”
Transition has been a HUGE theme in so many people’s lives right now. Have you felt it? This big shift in our hearts, our careers, around the world. It’s downright eerie how connected everyone has been to this transitional shift and how common the thread is in so many lives.
So let’s talk about it.
Right where I’m at -in this very moment- I’m experiencing the doldrums. Remember the poem “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” you had to read/memorize in 8th grade? How the ship got stuck on the ocean with no wind, no movement for days, even weeks? True, they were stranded at sea thanks to that numbskull killing a sea bird. But I’m there in the doldrums, yet it’s not a feeling of being trapped. It’s a feeling of waiting. Waiting for the wind to come, for guidance on which direction to go. Perhaps the map will come bobbing up to the boat in a corked bottle (though I’m guessing it will be inspiration whispered in my ear while staring at the star-filled night sky, resting on the quiet water. Then in the morning, the breeze will begin.)
But this place of quiet stillness -which perviously had been filled with anxiety of “What to do? What to do?! Must have a plan right now!”- is filled with peace. I’m no closer to knowing what the next step is -with 18 possibilities in front of me and no apparent direction- but I am more certain about who I am. And that worrying is the last thing I’m supposed to do right now.
It is a gift of stillness.
So as I focus on what’s current, what’s present and what’s happening inside, I have faith that direction will be whispered and the wind will pick up –all at the right time.
It may be quiet on the water, but there’s a heck of a lot of remodeling being done inside. And that’s a good thing.