There is a level of discomfort that needles me. If I pay attention to it, then it expands into my thoughts. My discomfort lies primarily in the waiting. I am still in a state of transition. This doesn’t normally define me until I wake up with a feeling of being less than. My choices are few. I can either remain captive in my thoughts or discard the blanket of “less than” that reveals that my feelings aren’t facts.
I know that my Higher Power has provided this space for me. A quiet span of time where I can collect my thoughts and figure out the landscape on my incomplete work of art. I am grateful for those paying writing gigs that have come my way, but I know there is more. In the meantime, I have been patient, well, as much as I can be. There are points in the day as I luxuriously curl up with a book or freely write about the topics I choose where I swim in gratitude. Then there are those times, like right now, where I exhale with annoyance wondering how long this “space” that I am being provided will be empty.
There are ebbs and flows in this current state of mind. Of course, I continue to find gratitude in being removed eight months ago from position that no longer felt like home. God knew before I did that the particular chapter in my life story had finished and it was time to start something new. So, I continue to wait in the space provided. I trust that the opportunities will reveal themselves when the timing is right. I also know that when this space is filled to capacity, I will look back longingly at the moments that gave me the time to be still. None of this time is filled with regret rather an odd sense of peace while I patiently wait -in my best attempt- for what comes next.