It’s a strange moment, indeed. There is a huge, multi-layered new project slowly snow-balling toward me. It’s moving in ultra-slow motion and lives in fog and ambiguity. It literally has no form yet. My job will be to both create and implement this entity. I will not be alone in this massive project, of course. Yet, when it lands, much will rest on my shoulders.
But it’s not time yet.
I say this to my dogs all the time.
It’s not time yet. What could that possibly mean to a dog, who lives in the Right Here and Now?
And what does it mean to me? Truly it is not a very comforting statement.
I want to do It and have It done. And then I can get more comfortable. I am not comfortable waiting.
But there really isn’t anything that can be done or that has to be done right now. I cannot force the timeframe nor manipulate my involvement into it.
When it comes, it will be here and my life shift. But until then, what is there to do?
Breathe and relax, I guess.
I’m not much of a skilled waiter. Patience is not a strongly cultivated muscle in me. I am a jumper-in-er. Planning is not my strenght; spontaneous response to the moment is.
So the question emerges: how do I choose to utilize this opportunity? How can I learn from this project, already such a teacher?
Sitting with emptiness, having nothing to do, feeling both my self-doubt as well as my assuredness–both are inevitable and sacred–seem to be the un-plan.
To hold my value in the midst of the unknown, the un-formed–not easy or comfortable for me, but yet, it is literally all there is to do/not/do.
In those famous words: just don’t do something, sit there!