I’m not used to limbo. I prefer surety to mystery–at least with my personal or emotional life. I want the security of understanding myself, where I stand, how things work, and what I’m feeling. This contrasts with the thrill of not knowing, discovering, and hoping. Every time I’m stuck in “No Clue Land” I learn how impatient I can be. There are times when I’m very chill and enjoying the moments as they come … but apparently I cannot yet stop my insatiable curiosity and eagerness.
I’ve been in suspense for a few weeks now, and I don’t think I’ll have any definitions or clarity for quite a few more. I’m on clouds of Maybe, floating between indefinable destinations. As the wind goes, there go I. Even so my feet are stretching, aching for the ground beneath. Part of me is thankful for the space beneath. I’m learning patience once again–the one lesson for which one should never pray lest they receive what they want.
I’m happy; I’m thankful; and I suppose the mystery is going to last whether I like it or not. The friendly duel between my instincts and my wisdom continues.