I find hope to be a sturdy, inspirational tool. I believe that pretty much anything can happen, including impossible things, and what I may not be doing or creating today is no indicator of what I may be capable of tomorrow, or even later this afternoon. What do they say? It is never too late to become who you might have been. I aspire to reach beyond this moment, in ways imagined as well as unimaginable, while simultaneously learning to be content with what is. We are all contortionists in training, planted in the present, extending our vines toward the future.
A unicycle rider on a tightrope is no less challenged by balance than any earthbound dreamer. How do we savor contentment with now, full of gratitude, while still reaching for more. We plot, sketch, envision, write lists, make wishes and, in my case, inch ahead with a new medium, an unfamiliar form of expression. It may be age, it may be caution, it may be fatigue which causes me to proceed slowly, regardless of the heat generated by enthusiasm. From here I can see where I'd like to be, see what the finished work looks like, yet how it feels is that in order to get there I first have to machete a path through the undergrowth, clear a campsite and then with a stilled mind set to the task. Knowing that I am the thorny shrubs through which I must navigate does not make it any easier. There is more peace-making to be done, more compassion required, certainly more patience. I will always be the child who grows more stubborn when jerked by the arm.
When observing or reading of others' forward sprints, it is a challenge not to compare, an act which invariably finds me finishing well out of the money. We late bloomers, I hope one day to be their poster child, awaken, arise and advance in a fashion that often draws eye rolls and sighs of exasperation from those of swifter foot. Hope and aspiration are companions for the long haul. We are comfortable sitting in occasional silence, quietly cheering the sun across the sky, knowing the road goes on forever.
5 comments:
Dear Sister-in-Spirit,
You speak and write so much of what is in my heart.
It encourages me to be my best self.
Dear Marylinn
'Knowing that I am the thorny shrubs through which I must navigate does not make it any easier.'
As Kass says (greetings, Kass x), you read and speak the themes of our individual and communal Heart. I am at once daunted and comforted at the notion we can be "comfortable in occasional silence, cheering the sun across the sky, knowing the road goes on forever. . ."
As always, thank you.
C xo
PS. Knowing we are not alone as we navigate our way inward and forward is immensely encouraging as is the suggestion that while each of us has a different route and time line, the great lap of Home is (t)here to receive and hold us all.
Kass - How fortunate we are, having found kindred souls here in the cyber world. Thank you. Having this place to share the realizations of my heart shrinks the sense of isolation. I know, like our plant brethren, we continually reach toward the light. Wishes for a sparkling new year to you, your ever best self. xo
Claire - And thank you. It feels to me that being simultaneously daunted and comforted is our natural state. The underbrush and the machete. I suppose one of the miracles is that we are not even more confused by it all. A pinpoint of awareness is, at times, enough. And yes, the relief of an assignment unlike any other that we can approach as we will. I love the great lap of home, receiving and holding us all. xo
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