I’m having one of those moments in time. You know what I mean. You think of something you want, and it suddenly appears. You see your therapist three times in two days after not seeing her for months and take it as a hint. People love your hair and your clothes and after two years of indifference that may just be veiled hostility, it seems to suddenly dawn on people who don’t matter to you that you’re doing a bang-up job. The logjams in your way suddenly break free and all the parts of your life start working in tandem.
Everyone has those moments, right?
Lately, I’ve been sheltering in some sort of cosmic waystation: the world goes careering crazily by but leaves me unscathed. Friends stress, come unglued, engage in tearing of hair and rending of garments. At work, I sit in my office and do my job. The dramas play out up and down the hall as I watch the players pass by. Occasionally, I offer a critique or lob an idea; for colleagues who are also friends, I proffer requested advice or relate a relatable tale. I listen, I empathize. I go back to my task.
I have been in the zone – productive, confident, creative, logical – with my head down and my eyes up, scanning the horizon. There I have spied unexpected paths and taken a closer look. What first appeared to be fences are now seen to be gates. So through I go, and I’m off.
Out of the office, I’ve been just as busy but less serene. This part of my life feels unbalanced, and I can’t quite figure out how to reset the scales. But here, too, are clues, and I sense that all I need is some concentrated time out of the daily grind to fit them together in a way that works. I will figure it out.
We each spend our whole lives getting to where we are at this very moment. It’s not always a conscious effort. But for the last nine years, I have worked very, very hard to be exactly where I am. Almost a year ago, thinking I was ready, I looked at the open road – and hesitated. There were still burdens to unpack and reckonings to make. But finally, I’ve taken my first steps on my sojourn to somewhere else. My bags are stowed, provisions at hand, map at the ready. The open gates beckon to me, leading toward destinations unknown. But I’m moving; there is no fear. It’s time to trust that whatever unseen hand guides the stars and moves the mountains will show me the way.