The Wait.

Tonight I just want to write. And I have not written, just to write, for a long time, so staring at the blank page terrifies me. Yet to know I can write anything in this space and that it is mine, and that it comes thru me from some mystical highway of creation, is satisfying. So I begin . . .

Love. It’s what I care about most. So it’s what I want to write about. And I am lucky and blessed and wise enough to have recognized it when it showed up. I say all three words because they connect me to the human, the spiritual, and the manifesting parts of my Self.

Love. Is it him whom love is flowing thru that I love? Or is it love itself? It must be both. There is nothing quite like that feeling of this force of nature called Love when it radiates out from another being and we receive it. But when it is matched, then in an exact same moment, by our own cosmic release of this untouchable, unexplainable force toward another, the collision of the unseen is experienced; it is worth every other moment of waiting for it.

I tell myself this, and yet it is the waiting that has caused me so much grief. The waiting has been so prolonged, and the moments have been so few to feel this one true miracle equation. So I find myself focusing on that which there is more of: the longing, the pain, and The Wait. Oh, that I could stay focused on that which there has been less of but that I am lucky enough to have experienced even momentarily. If only I could; then I would not feel this longing and pain so much, as I do tonight, without him with me.

His work is overseas, and it’s nearly at an end now. Just seven more months. But that feels like an eternity. And I find it interesting that I have manifested this situation. For one would think that, if one could afford it, one would just take short trips to see each other so The Wait is not so lengthy. But I own a travel business and am in the first year of my residency in a foreign country where we own our home, and I am restricted in the number of days I can be out of the country. It’s actually comical, right? Like, I couldn’t have set myself up for The Wait any better, could I?

So, since I have been the master painter in this masterpiece of Love in Waiting, I must have a grander reason for creating it. Perhaps, in all the time I am focused on The Wait and not The Love, there is a truth I am overlooking. You know, it’s like a painting in which there is a symbol hidden in plain sight that provides the deepest meaning to the beauty and story you are beholding. It’s so obvious once it is discovered. You can never see the painting again without noticing it, right? But until you, by some magic, observe it with new eyes and the truth is revealed, it eludes you and you walk by the painting, perhaps only admiring the artist’s use of color or light.

Oh yes, I have told myself over and over that The Wait is developing greater patience in me. It is growing my gratitude and appreciation. It’s helping me heal my Wounded Self. But it seems to me that I have not yet uncovered the one true hidden symbol that is the key to unlocking all the secret blessings in this masterpiece.

I guess the first step in uncovering this hidden symbol is making a real commitment to finding it. To me, garnering the same tenacity toward its discovery that I do with anything else I really care about is what is required. And interestingly enough, I realize in this moment that I have not made that commitment. Yes, I have made the commitment to this man as my Beloved, forever. But I have not made the commitment to embrace all of our journey. That must be true, even as hard as it is to admit it, as I keep telling myself that The Wait is a thorn, a pain, a challenge—yes, a learning—but not one that I am really embracing. I am resisting it every chance I get. Every moment that I am faced with its ugliest sneer, I rebel against it, and often against my beloved for “not being here with me,” for “not changing his plan,” for not rescuing me from this pain.

I’m not a person who gives up. I seek the deeper truth in my commitments, sometimes until it almost kills me. For above all, I recognize I am committed first to Truth. I believe that Truth is love itself expressing. So, I’d like to not bring that old, unhealthy way of being into the sailing of this uncharted territory of me. Instead, I would like to simply and powerfully bring clarity to the creation of this particular masterpiece called The Wait into my Universe.

Who am I in The Wait? This becomes my new mantra and replaces the questions that prompted my resistance of The Wait, questions such as, “Why can’t he come back sooner?” “Doesn’t he care more about me than the money he is making?” And the biggest one of all, “What if something happens to him there and he never comes back to live the life we’ve dreamed of together? What will become of me?” And through this new question, Who am I in The Wait?, perhaps I will stumble upon clues that will lead me to the deeper revelation I seek, the one that is beyond what I know: it is my Wounded Self—my fear of abandonment and loss of self and impatience and self-doubt—that gets triggered. I see these wounds. I feel them, embrace them, honor them, and connect to what I have learned in order to transform them into freedom and excitement and self-acceptance. Is it simply that the transformation of the wounds is still incomplete? Or is there still an unseen symbol in the painting that keeps going unnoticed because I keep looking at what I already know?

Who am I in The Wait . . . right now?

In this moment, I am love and creativity expressed. I am vulnerable and honest. I am a seeker and speaker of Truth. I am in Love. I am Love.

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