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Be Still

Updated: Nov 27, 2023



Anyone who knows astrology knows that for an Aries heavy chart such as my own, patience is not something I was awarded with going in to this life. And after thirty-eight years of living, it’s not something I can say I’ve just picked up along my way either. In fact, my motto is a lot like what someone once taught me about getting around LA traffic, “better to keep the car moving than to stop and wait for the light to turn green. “ I don’t like stoping and I don’t like waiting, which makes this current phase of my life pretty damn difficult.


Everywhere I look the world is not just asking from me patience, it’s demanding it; forcing me into elongated periods of time where I’m forced to wait against my will for things beyond my control to resolve. First it was the pandemic, then it was a union strike, now it’s waiting for our house to sell back in California so we can get the rest of our things, start renovating our new, 123 year old home, and begin a family of our own. All major life transitions that are more than normal for a couple moving into their forties…correction - all major life transitions more than normal for a millennial couple going into their forties.


The last few years have been a test for us all in a multitude of ways. We’ve learned to collectively and individually pivot, restructure, rebuild, and improve our lives in ways we maybe didn’t even know were weak, faulting, or causing us pain. We’ve shown up and grown up, then looked back, wondering where that previous version of ourselves went once we were forced to take our eyes off them.


It’s funny how periods of waiting seem so long and arduous in the moment then so fleeting in retrospect. I have to think it’s because for people like me, we aren’t accustomed to spending our waiting time correctly. We will moments of discomfort away, eyes fixed on the moment of resolve that has us chomping at the bit, in a rush to meet up with it. I’ve done this time and time again, only then to find myself then willing for a period of rest that previously eluded me.


I recently read a post on instagram that said, “Woman: I feel like I’m constantly hitting a wall” Woman’s Friend: Sometimes walls are there for us to lean up against and rest.” Boom - I might as well have run into another wall for how hard that hit me. What if instead of running myself ragged trying to find a way around them, I simply stopped to catch my breath? Just typing that gives me anxiety, but this past week has given me insight into what that very action might reward me with.


The stakes of providing a satisfying product to a client, for us, are high, and as we pull together the final pieces for a client, I can feel the pressure mounting. I want to get this project done, but I know that in order for it to get it done right I have to wait; for cement to cure, coats to dry, adhesion to take, shipments to arrive. Moving on to the next step is literally impossible without the wait. A striking and painful parallel to the lessons of life I’m aware. As much as I want to hurry the process along so I don’t have to stare at the ugly in between, as much as I want to hurry it along so I know my experiments can and will work, as much as I want to hurry it along so my client isn’t waiting for me to deliver, I can’t. I have to sit with the discomfort. I have to wait for the light to turn green before it’s safe enough to proceed.


I guess you could say I’m learning I don’t have to drive like I’m in Los Angeles traffic if I’m no longer there? Perhaps that time has passed for me and this new chapter of life is showing the greater benefit of me taking my time. That’s not to say it’s an easy process or even something I’m conscious of enough to try and consistently adapt to, but I do know it’s necessary. I also know that likely translates to other areas of my life as well. My anxiety is constantly summoned in learning to work together with a universe I’m slowly being convinced might actually have my best interest at heart, and as difficult as it is for me to admit, it might even know better than I what’s best for me. The more open I am to that belief, the less painful sitting still feels.


It’s easy for fear to take the driver’s seat, but it kind of reminds me of the opening scene in Office Space; one lane always appears to move faster until the moment you decide to join it, then the one you departed from is suddenly more fluid. The truth is, it’s a lot easier to trust the road we’re on will get us where we need to be at exactly the right time, so long as we do our best not to interfere.


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