The Value in the Waiting
Here we are. Waiting. We have been for the past two months. It is hard. So much harder than leaving things behind and taking a backpack across the world. We don't know tomorrow. It gives us time, to be and to surrender. And you would think a yoga teacher knows how to do those things, but hey, it's hard. The waiting is coming to an end soon, and I am starting to see how it affected me, the lessons it is here to learn. I am finally inviting it in, to do its work on me, instead of resenting it.
Because waiting gets you places. Waiting is what makes life so juicy. I can just think back to how happy we were when a bus took hours and finally got us to the beach and we could take a dive. Or when you can finally take sweaty clothes of after a long hot day under the sun. Waiting clarifies desire. Waiting brings out the part of us that is willing to make sacrifices, as well as the little kid inside that feels entitled to instant gratification.
While these two months have often felt like I was not doing "enough", it has actually put me face to face with my need to control, my desire to make a decision that keeps me safe, that maps out the future. I want to have it set in stone. It has shown me how feel a need to rush in making a decision. To stop the confusion. It made crystal clear how more at ease I feel in a place of control compared to a place of allowing or surrendering.
While it feels like it has not given me any input, it has given me time. To think and over-think. Instead of just choosing and going for it, it gives us enough time to see the nuances of all our options. That there is good and safe in all of them, that there is a lot of questions and risks in all of them.
I am finally realizing this is not a test. It is not a yes or no question. There is no right or wrong chance to take here. No right or wrong choice to make. It is in the choosing that the trust will come.It is hard to trust the flow when you stop the water from running. But what if I go with it? Go inside to what I need right now. Yoga, breath and movement. Words and tears. Care. Time and space to just be and see, see what I am drawn to. Listen to what feels good, and follow that.
I long for the sea and the ocean, waves crashing, rivers rushing. But there is beauty in still water as well, right? Lakes and ponds hold life just the same. Their surfaces shine and glitter gently under the sun. The water rises in the end, to join the clouds and rains down somewhere else. It all runs back to the ocean. So what's the worry? What's the rush? I want the movement and the big decisions, the big bold changes. But I need to be with what happens within for now, with the processes that might be less visible, less dramatic, but are just as important in this story.
So I calm down. Re-center. Rest. Hear myself think and feel myself feel. Air out old habits, clean out what is not useful anymore. Rest. Learn. Purify. Let the light in. Let others in. And trust. That there is value in the waiting. There is clarity to be found here. Why do we want what we want? What is driving us away? What is uncomfartable in the quiet? How do we make this our own?
Here we are. Waiting. And it is okay. It is the yin to the yang. The going within after going without. The static after the wandering. The golden trees shedding their leaves after the palmtrees on the beach. This is the recreation of a balance from which we will start again. And deep down, we know; it will be okay because it will be ours, and will come from a place that is true.
So we wait.