Around me, people are waiting. Friends in their last weeks of pregnancy are fighting with meditation or tearing apart rooms in the struggle with biding their time. Teacher friends are eyeing the last weeks of school. Writers always waiting for a letter, email, or call.
In this mode, I'm realizing that far from its passive nature, waiting has a palpaple energy. With determination and maybe luck, you can lose yourself in distraction. But in stillness, you can feel the force like waves beating a quiet rhythm in your brain.
I talked about my own blogging blahs as a sense of something coming, but maybe it is more an accumulation of waiting that is tiring. Fighting ocean waves is useless. Better to coast on the current or ride in on the tide. It makes sense then that I was reading Adrift: 76 Days Lost at Sea and came on this passage:
An eternity exists between the click of each second. I remind myself that time does not stand still. The seconds will stack up like poker chips. Seconds into minutes, minutes into hours, hours into days. Time will pass. In months I will look back on this hell from a comfortable seat in the future... perhaps, if I'm lucky.Sometimes all we can do is wait and understand that looking back the period of time will seem insignificant. That knowledge may be an easy comfort for small things like a theatre role or car repair, but maybe a lifeline for those struggling with grief or depression. Especially for young people who are not used to waiting for so much as a weather report, it has to be the hardest simple lesson there is: that time will pass. And at the end of that time is something worth waiting for.
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