The long unmeasured pulse of time moves everything. There is nothing hidden that it cannot bring to light, nothing once known that may not become unknown. Nothing is impossible. –Sophocles
It can be disconcerting to not know what’s coming next. I mean, we never exactly know what’s coming, that type of control is an illusion, but not having a coherent plan can feel strange. And that’s where I am at right now, in between. I embody transition, passage, but even that, I am not completely sure of.
This year I’ve started living my life differently. Prompted by a shift in my perception of time, something switched in me and I simply stopped using time for things not meaningful to me, or those close to me (come on, I’m not that solipsistic). I used to hear musings on the passage of time and reflect, but now, something in me is aware that while I still may have significant time to live, I need to be more engaged and present. I need to really be here. I feel like I have things I have to do.
It seems contradictory that I am simultaneously more invested in living my life and less conscious of where it is going, doesn’t it? Strangely, I feel more sure of my direction than I ever have. The funny thing is that this experience mimics my creative process entirely. Since I have been small my writing process goes like this: I get restless (this is how I know something is coming and/or or if I have not been practicing enough), snippets of ideas are revealed (and I feel compelled to start recording them), I get moody (this is how I know I can’t resist it anymore), and finally, I take up the practice of gathering the pieces of ideas until the larger vision reveals itself. Ideas come to me and through me, and for many years as a writer, I have trusted them. Now I am being called to live my life this way and it feels like a little bit of magic.
Though I have never been a terribly patient person, I find myself okay with not knowing all that I do not know. I am content with the space where I can wait quietly, open to receive whatever is coming next. I don’t feel the need to chase anything. There is work to do, but right now I find joy in even the most mundane of it. This won’t last forever, nothing does, but as I feel myself both witness and participant, creatively connected and in service, as only someone who has lived into adulthood can, I feel grateful. So far, this is what’s illuminated.