Marking time

Sometimes, we are aware of being at a time of transition. The end of the year, the beginning of a season, the rising of the sun -- all transitions. We get those. We understand that things are changing because our world or our culture or our senses tell us so.

But some transitions are not so clear cut. Change doesn't simply happen because it's a new day, or month, or because of any particular life event. Some changes in life unfold. Some changes become apparent only in hindsight.

We have a tendency to live in a linear way. At least we think we do. First comes A, followed by B, then C and so on. And if we think this way, then we may even believe that is how life really is. And we can support this with our stories: I know exactly when I fell in love with her; the day I heard those words my whole life changed; I waited all year for this vacation and now I'm here. First this, then that.

But if all we look for is the obvious, then that's all we see. We risk missing the subtleties of life. We may overlook the nuances of organic change. We forget about the interim.

We are always in a flow of life -- an energetic, organic unfolding. Like plants that grow, we follow cyclical patterns because we, too, are natural, organic beings. Patterns do follow a progression but they don't always turn out as we expect. And these patterns or cycles of our existence include a time for rest, the interims between spurts of growth. This is the time between the A and the B. It can be short or long, but it's always there. It may stay "right in line" with the pattern or it may be a period of redirection or expansion. It's all growth. Dwell in the interim and notice it for what it is: an essential, life-sustaining part of the necessary development of your existence.

Honor the space between the end and the beginning. Rest there. Find comfort and sustenance there. A beginning will come in good time. And another, and another.