And it has been an interesting exercise letting that go a little bit. Sort of a hurry up and wait way of transmuting it into something less laden with adrenaline and built-in craziness. And so now, as I feel the RIGHT NOW alarm go off, and I say, Really? Right now? or can I wait a while? Can I breathe first?
And you know what?
it makes room for me to not be totally reactive, totally desperate, both of which work always and forever against my highest and best.
So I am learning to wait. And the transformation is amazing to watch-- ideas/choices/actions that feel critical and obvious end up feeling open to interpretation. I feel that each time I wait, even if it is for a breath, I am making space for other options, other information, including learning how I really feel at a deeper level once the panic of I-must-do-this-now-or-all-will-be-lost stops.
I hiked today, and it was magical- diamond snow sparkling everywhere, the only footprints on the trail, mine and a rabbit that followed all the way up the hill, squirrels, two deer throughways, and a mouse tunnel....
The sky was the kind of blue that looks crazy, bluer than any sky I have ever seen. And the wind, whistling, pushing, pulling, forcing my face into stillness and my breath into clouds that were pulled away faster than I could see them.
I stood up at the overlook, with the wind and a chickadee, I made a snow angel, and then instead of looking out at the glory of the bare hills, the deep dark green of the pointy pines, the roll of the land, I turned around and looked at the bare scrub of the bushes, the trees in hibernation, the snowballs held in the lee arms of the pines. I let my eyes play with the snow, see the blue of the shadows, because you know what? Even though there is such immense beauty out there, over there, on that far hill, or at that horizon, there is such beauty right here, right here where I am standing. And it felt so good to honor that as well.