As we live, do, feel and say, there is of course the constant of change, but all the while also, the underlying rhythm of the wait.
Even when we’re living, doing, feeling and saying, change we cannot influence, while undeniable and at times subtle, is hopefully and wisely, taking a back seat to our waiting.
Waiting for the next big thing, waiting for positive change, waiting for the next great hope politically, sportingly, musically or romantically—the wait is what we do, is what we surrender to as youth gives way to maturity, (and so) we wait.
When we’re forming ourselves, creating the possibilities within for what will become, engendering our first early experiences, we’re figuring out what it is we’re easily capable of and contrarily, those things we will have to work hard, at best, to achieve some success in.
This is neither bad nor good, this quest for what we will become. It is merely a natural extension of our living, our being, our seeking and our quests for what lies beyond the relative comfort of our hopefully good upbringings.
The wait is indifferent, and can be at times cruel, unflinching, uncaring and unapologetic in where it appears and reappears, as we go through life.
The thing with the wait that becomes clearer is when we live beyond our youth, experience failures and successes, concurrently enjoying the memories that long life affords.
The clarity of the wait can be found in the passing of torches.
Whether it be the Olympics, the expiration of first love that we thought was forever and always true, the wait will not be denied and eventually will either prove your partner genuine or not, in the same fashion it easily permits a younger athlete to overtake an aging one.
Much is said and has been written regarding relationships, how difficult they are and how statistically, you really have no better than a 50-50 chance, whether you do the “work” in a clinical sense or just feel you’ve met someone who gets you and everything seems suddenly easy. The wait will quite possibly humble you and one day bring you around to realizing that maybe you were too quick to act upon your impulses, and you should have just, well, waited.
We all feel the need for closeness, to be nurtured, to be understood.
When we’re young, we can’t seem to get our heads around the fact that if we’re in a stable, supportive home growing up, that particular time is really one of the most carefree periods of life we’ll ever know: there are no bills to pay, no jobs to go to, no heavy responsibilities to be met.
We’re children, loving life, playing and…
We’re waiting, unbeknownst to us, for what lies ahead.
I’ve occasionally and futilely so, entertained discussions with friends over action versus luck versus being in the right place at the right time regarding how things turn out for us in life.
When we’re young, it seems we take a course, feel we have a sensibility for what will be and for what we want to become. We perhaps seek structure in the form of formal education, a trade, or like me, a stint in the military, and we just do it; we chart a course and decide, or at least try to, what it is we want to be, what it is we’d like to do with our lives, as we’re growing up.
This can be wishful thinking. I’m not a fatalist per se. I do not believe everything in our lives is predestined. I believe we employ free will and choose to a large extent, what it is we become. For me, however, the problem has always been trying to believe you make your own luck. You may, but I’m pretty sure each of us needs a little help when doing so.
Who that has lead a good life and has been successful, hasn’t gotten a break, a chance, when they thought they might not, or perhaps thought at least at one time, that all was lost relative to how things were supposed to go (for them)?
I would suggest that like love, they were patient and they were kind, to themselves.
And so my friends, there’s no shame in not knowing what you want to be when you grow up and perhaps wisdom will be yours to be found, while you wait for whatever it is, that you become.
Wait for it…
Wait for it…
And as you live and learn, more often than not, you’ll be glad you did.