You know how some books have multiple parts? And, in between the chapters, when a new part is starting, there is a whole page, mostly blank, dedicated to that new beginning? And it says something like, Part 4 (or whatever) in big, bold font. But, then you have to actually turn the page to get to the new chapter?
That’s what I feel like right now. Today, actually. I’m in the “part page” of this incredible narrative that is my life. I know my previous chapter has fully ended. I have turned that page. And I thought the next page was taking me to a new chapter, but…it just doesn’t quite feel like it’s begun yet.
I feel a bit like I’m in limbo.
This new chapter does feel as though it is just about to begin. I have new endeavors beginning to blossom and wisps that were once merely ideas beginning to take shape. Possibly the proverbial “tomorrow” will bring it all more properly into focus.
Until then, I am trying hard to focus on today. On taking it all one day at a time. To be okay with just breathing in this moment. It’s so incredibly laughable, really. I’m literally sitting here, shaking my head at myself and chuckling. Just less than a year ago, I couldn’t even dream about thinking even one hour into the future. I was desperately treading water. Thrashing about, actually – and losing – as the waves crashed down upon me over and over, promising to drown me with the next one.
I had to concentrate wholly and completely on my breath…on this very moment. From one inhale…and then exhale, to the next breath in. While in survival mode, there was no opportunity to dream. All I saw in my future was a great, black abyss. My future couldn’t exist. And surely dreams were nothing I’d ever fathom of having again.
And then, one day, those great waves slowly settled from tsunami to rain storm to a gentle, rolling sea. The tides had turned. Life was filled with peace once again. And joy.
Which turned me back into a dreamer. I dreamed with enthusiasm once again. Freely. Well, for a while. But quite recently, it’s begun to feel wrong to dream without bound. Careless, even. Now, just before my dreams explode into the full color, high-def movie they once easily did, they seem to have a cloud shading them.
My dreams now come hesitantly. I begin to let my mind wander, hopeful about the future, lost in all the beauty that could be…and then I turn the corner and run smack into a wall filled with caution signs. I tell myself to slow down, to guard my heart, to proceed with great care. Because, as I’ve learned in previous chapters, there is significant pain as those dreams inevitably come to a very realistic end.
How can I turn the page into my newest chapter when the very fibers of my being are screaming at me to be wary?
For some time, I had to tell myself, deliberately and with tremendous focus, to fear less. I was quite scared of the world around me and fully believed I was incapable of facing all that was out there in this vast and wondrous world. With that intention, of purposefully fearing less, I became fearless. I stopped worrying what was around the corner because I knew, no matter what it was, that I could – and would – conquer it. I stopped behaving in a way where I had to prove to myself that I was enough because I just became enough. I knew I was capable. I knew I had the strength to conquer any challenge. I knew if I were defeated, it’d only be but for a moment, because I would rise again, more tenacious and determined than ever before.
I still know these things are true. I do not fear the pain when reality crumples up my dreams and spits them out.
I have started to understand, however, that to chase my dreams with such an open heart is rather foolish. I have prior knowledge that should not be dismissed. Previous chapters of this life have taught me some incredibly hard lessons. And I am finding that I cannot – should not – dream as I once did. Or live with such a pure and open heart anymore. It feels childish to do so.
And that is beyond frustrating to me. Because I’ve always been a free spirit. I don’t exactly want to live a guarded life. It’s just that right now, I feel that I’m supposed to.
Maybe this is why I felt compelled to write once again. Why I feel “in between” and unsettled. My story cannot continue to progress now because of these walls. They weren’t there before…I mean, I’d become fearless. But slowly but surely, these bricks are being cautiously laid, piled one on top of the other, cemented into place with the wisdom from my past that I’d been deliberately ignoring.
Which is another reason to focus, once again, on this breath. While I am no longer drowning, and the waves are no longer crashing violently upon me, I have the understanding that the only thing that is real is this very moment.
And don’t get me wrong, this moment is a lovely one, filled with opportunity. I am happy. I also have this great desire to take care of myself, to be cautiously optimistic, to dream…but to also see the clouds that hover ever ominously over those dreams.
There is always a storm I could get caught in, so why not just be ready and carry the umbrella?
Not terribly long ago, I thought that living at a distance from your self, walled behind protection from your true feelings, was living a disingenuous life. Living a lie. Now, though, I don’t quite agree with myself anymore. Perhaps that security is more wise than I used to think. Just like I wouldn’t drive without the safety of a seat belt, I think one can still live a fully authentic life and be guarded. The seat belt doesn’t prevent you from reaching your destination, it just provides an extra safety net to ensure you get there without great harm. It isn’t so much fearing the inevitable fall into the painful existence that accompanies shattered dreams, but being aware the fall could come and, therefore, preparing the landing a bit so you don’t get so hurt.
People all around me live carefully and have their guards properly in place. Perhaps it’s time I ought to, as well.
A Graceful Catastrophe 