Somewhere is coming.

This morning, I came across more words I wrote last year, when I was taking a break from blogging. And I couldn’t help but think: when I wrote these words, I was mainly thinking of one thing. 

One thing that I’ve now done.

When I wrote these words, I was thinking mainly about moving to a new city. And I don’t think I would’ve admitted it to you then, but I will now. Part of me definitely believed that once I moved, most of the tough parts of these words, the impatience and restlessness I was feeling, would disappear from my life.

My waiting would be over. Problem solved.

But as I sit on the other side, all I can do is laugh at our human nature, and the way we’re always onto the next. The person I am today, still needed the reminder of these 2022 words.

Because lately, I’ve still found myself impatient for the next thing.

For when I’m published. For when I can hold my book in my hands.

I needed this reminder.

I’m writing this to myself, just as much as I am to you.

Waiting.

Originally published: January 31, 2022 via Instagram

 Waiting is a weird thing.

Standing in one place, dreaming of the next.

Lately, I've felt like my whole life has been in transition, but I don't yet know where the next landing place at the end of all of this is.

Moving, but unsure of exactly where I'm going.

Confident, but restless. Thankful, but impatient.

Here, but waiting.

Waiting for places, waiting for ideas, waiting for answers, waiting for people.

Knowing this isn't forever, I've wondered what I'll think.

When today crosses my mind, when this exact moment finds my thoughts while I'm standing in a new moment. When I'm maybe even standing in the moment I'm only wishing for right now, what will I say about the one I'm currently living in?

When I think back, what will I say about the moment I'm writing this in?

There are voices in my head that say maybe waiting is bad. Because I should be here. Fully present, in this reality. Wherever "here" happens to be. I should be in it, even if all I want is the next.

But what if I am here, as best as I can be? What if I'm present, I'm laughing, and whenever I find myself doing the opposite, whenever I find myself discouraged by this here, I feel it fully and then I get back up every time, and look down only at my next step?

What if, for a few moments, I get discouraged, I get lost in my dreams, I voice how impatient I feel, but I promise to always come back to where I am? I get it out, and then I get back up. And I come back.

Waiting? Maybe it's something we'll always do, and maybe it's not bad.

So, what will I say?

In time, whatever that time happens to be, when a thought of this specific time finds me, what will I say if I'm still waiting? Or, if I've found the places, I've locked in a few answers, I have a few new ideas, and I'm standing next to a few new people?

What will I say when, in maybe even a just few minutes, I ask myself if what I'm feeling now is bad?

Is it bad? Is it bad to wait? Is it bad to feel restless?

Is it bad to want something else?

I'm starting to think that it's not. Because how else would we move successfully, if we didn't want and we didn't wait?

Two words come to mind when I think of waiting being okay:

Presence.

Presence in "here", because it likely won't ever come back once it's gone.

Presence in the things being done to make yourself better for the next.

Presence with the people who haven't left, and the places you can come back to, though they may not be the exact same as when you last left them.

Presence in the hurt, to learn what it's saying.

Presence in the good and the joy, to learn what it's affirming.

Anticipation.

Anticipation for seeing down the road what the waiting was leading you to.

Anticipation for what you will smile about.

Anticipation for the next.

The next people, the next place, the next idea, the next jump you take, and the next fall you learn from.

Anticipation for the next here.

I think waiting is okay.

When patience grows with presence and anticipation on board, with those things active, with one not existing without the other, I think waiting is okay.

I think in that sense, waiting is good. It's necessary.

You and I will get somewhere.

When, what it'll hold, and what will meet us there, I don't know.

I just know somewhere is coming.

But that doesn't make here, wherever here is, any less beautiful.

Any less valid.

We'll get to the next.

Be here, for the sake of when you do land. Wherever you do.

Somewhere is coming.

But here is here. And here is valid.

--

Waiting is okay. Waiting is inevitable.

 When I think back on that time in my life when I wrote those words, I remember the impatience. I remember the questions I had.

 But in this today, on the other side of it, I can say to you confidently that I’m thankful for that time in my life. Even the parts of it that still don’t make total sense to me yet.

 I’ve already seen some ways that time has changed me for the better.

 Somewhere.

It’s coming.

 But here is here.

And you should be in it.

Trust me.

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