Spring’s return

Spring comes every year, yet every year it feels so far away, like a question more than a certainty.

I know living where I live encourages the questioning.

It’s got me thinking about cycles. Returning to the same state, the same position… but it’s of course not the same at all.

How often have I returned?

To the questioning. So many questions without as many answers makes doubt insidiously easy.

I call this place the waiting room.

Sometimes I believe I’ve left it. I’ve found the corridor or the office or the alley or the mansion or the castle in the sky. I’m on a roll, I’m vibing, I’m connected, I’m FLOWING.

Then a hiccup. Big or small. And once more, the feeling of the waiting room.

When does life not hiccup, convulse with spastic movement even if only for a moment?

I want steadiness, but I will never receive it in life. Stillness in reality, in the ebb and flow of material existence, is nothing more than illusion. A dream for those who fear the tentativeness of their own capacity.

Those like me.

It’s because I have spent most of my life “controlling” the parameters of my being and my engagement with the world around me. Through bracing. Bearing down. Running away. Disassociating.

While I’ve done the work I can do in the time possible to build resilience, to feel my feelings, to establish presence, I still forget that I am capable of moving through whatever happens with steadiness.

Because that’s it. The steadiness does exist. But only inside. Only if I continue to practice it.

Life is about to get real different, for everyone. The way we’ve done things will likely not be the way we do them moving forward. It’ll be scary. Because we’ll have to uncover more of ourselves in critical moments with no preparation or experience.

The beautiful thing is, there really is more of us to uncover. Always, even beyond this physical human body on planet earth. At least I believe so.

The more we practice steadying the mind - which let’s be real, is just getting it to shut the fuck up sometimes - the easier it is to feel at ease amidst the turbulence of everything around us.

And this makes it much easier to realize that life is a series of waiting rooms. Cyclical does not mean repetitive or regressive.

It means, I am here. I am here. I am here. I am here.

It’s a gift of comprehension amidst chaos.

It’s our breadcrumbs. It’s our trail snack to prevent the (h)anger.

So here I am again in the waiting room, here we are again at the threshold of spring, and here humanity is once more at gate of something MORE.

Steady yourself. I’ll steady myself. Together, we’ll walk through the portal and do what we can in the moments we are called.

Maybe it’ll look like something we’ve done before, maybe it won’t.

More and more I understand it’s not what I do, but how I do it. The waiting room is the springboard into the next spiral. A slinky pulled apart. We elevate but are always tethered to the core - a gift as much as a harshness.

And that is what I want to commit myself to with the budding enthusiasm and almost naive hopefulness the first blooms of the year bring out of me. HOW I’m doing whatever it is I’m doing. The love and compassion and depth I offer myself first, to then extend outward in all directions, creates simple magic. That is what I want my life to be filled with.

While I’ve never been one to know exactly what I want or have a clear vision of the future, I know it involves a community [GLOBAL], and helping others find their innate power, and tapping into the creative matrix of unified, intentional action.

So whatever you do with your time, immerse yourself. That spirit will expose more depth and connection and fruitfulness than could ever be imagined.

Now is the time to give everything everything you’ve got it. What’s to wait for?