I don’t mind if I am getting nowhere.

I do very much mind if I am getting nowhere, actually. It weighs on my mind and makes me even more tired than a plate full of tryptophans. But, slowly, slowly, I’ve been learning that heading in a straight line to what I perceive to be the answer may not be an answer at all. No, the answer might require patience, finesse, taking the long way around. And so, in the end, it might be better just to enjoy the process, to see how the “mystery of the curve” might take a little more time, but it also might give me the experience I need to better know what to do. As I circle this issue yet again, I am trying to believe that, if it’s not resolved yet, there’s something else I need to learn from letting this happen. Again. Only this time I’m going to try to let the end result work itself out.

I don’t mind if I am getting nowhere
Circling the seed of light
I’ve been greedy for some destination
I can’t get to where are you
Turning reverie to perfect solids
Bone and shells to hide ourselves
I tried but can’t find refuge in the angle
I’ll walk the mystery of the curve

Five colors blind the eyes
See the world inside
Amazed alone

I have to say that I thought this would be over by now. I know I’ve said that, said it so much that even I am tired of hearing it. And I know I’ve been stressing myself out, holding onto it and rolling it over and over in my mind when there’s more than enough on my plate already. But then I step back for just a minute, and I think about who I am now, and how different I am than when this started. I have made good decisions for myself, I have more confidence, I am stronger. Maybe this situation hasn’t changed, but I certainly have. And that’s not really “getting nowhere.”

And this is the time of year to believe in change. To remember the mystery of a little baby in a manger, and not to put limits on relationships, what I think can happen, what I think should happen. To try, once again, to let go of the things I hold too closely: what others think of me, being understood, and instead to grasp onto things that are healing: friends who prop me up, spending time with family, road trips and concerts and Advent. The baby in the manger reminds me to hope, even when I’m too afraid, too tired to risk it on my own.

Opening my hands
Closing wounds I made myself
Raise the dead and bury all my fears
Listen to the rain
And the bells that ring in my dreams
Turning time to break its line from here
To the small forgotten road
Where we see the concrete world disintegrating

So, for now, what I believe is that “getting nowhere” is getting somewhere after all.

Fabulous lyrics from “Five Colors” by Sam Phillips.

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