I’m stymied, feeling like I know what to do but also not knowing what to do. I go through my to-do list, feeling good as I cross things off, especially the things that were carried over from last week. There are a few things niggling at me, things not on the list, but things that I see as I move around the house. The curtain rod brackets that need removing, the resulting holes spackled and painted. That’s the kind of thing that niggles.
Maybe I’ll get to that tomorrow.
I sit on the porch with a hot cup of tea and a scone from yesterday, reheated. The air is crisp and cool, the sky clouded over. Hello, autumn. I’m wearing flannel pajama pants and I pull my fuzzy green sweater tight around me. The fact that I’m wearing flannel pajama pants makes me more than a little happy. It’s quiet. This time of day (this beginning part) is my favorite.
Maybe I’ll tackle the curtain rod brackets tomorrow.
A dear friend tells me that the fifth decade of her life was a time for claiming self. I’m just beginning my fifth decade and I tell her I sense that. It’s coming, I feel it. I’m waiting, while also making space and working towards that claiming.
Another friend, years ago, when I asked her what her greatest fear was, replied: “Not stepping into my full power”. When she told me this, I was in my late 20s, and didn’t fully grasp what she was saying, but it stuck with me. I think a lot about what she said and it sinks in a little more with each passing year. That’s a powerful thing, isn’t it?
As I rock back and forth on the porch, I think how it’s okay to not see the path completely laid out in front of you. I think how maybe this is part of the process, part of the practice, part of life…not seeing the path, maybe not even having an actual path…moving along anyway. Here, now. There’s no hurry, really.
Maybe I’ll spackle and paint tomorrow.
To be alive is to be dizzy and not to know exactly where to go.
~ Ander Monson ~