Something’s Coming

I’m here now feeling like something’s coming or about to happen. Nothing ominous about it, but the feeling is strong. Like the whoosh when a train hurries by and I’m standing at the station. But that’s not right, because what I’m feeling isn’t going to pass me by. 

While I wait for it, I try to imagine or remember what else gives me this buoyant feeling of expectation. Something that lifts me up, like the soft touch of a sudden cool breeze pushing through hot summer air. I leave the ground.

There are moments that carry possibilities, like making an idle comment to a stranger in line next to you, and suddenly you’re deep in conversation. The sharing feels so natural even though you’ll part and never pick it up again. Something happened.

Still waiting, impatiently tapping my toes, I recall the rampant joy of first holding my new-born son (both times). This is the purest moment of motherhood, before the weight of responsibility sets in. This sense of wonder has never left me.

It’s akin to being overcome by a powerful invincibility when I crossed the stage at high school graduation. “On my way to whatever I can make happen,” I thought innocently, seeing no barriers or pitfalls ahead. Oh how naive I was, but that never stopped me.

Still not allowing the train to whoosh by without me, I reflect that I’ve lived my life as though a discovery, or a new love, or a special gift might be just ahead of me. I need to clarify. There is no regret or dissatisfaction or even wishful thinking involved here. 

Rather, while being fully in the moment, part of my mind is racing around paying attention to things it knows I won’t want to miss. Like noticing a goldfinch standing quietly in my birdbath, or two very young children having what looks like a serious conversation.

Readiness! That’s what I’m talking about. It’s not like I’m standing around waiting to yell “squirrell.” I’m just ready for it, without knowing. It’s how I write, vaguely aware of where I’m going, hopping on the train, and letting my mind go with what’s just ahead.

The ride of my life has been the ride itself. I’m not talking about grabbing a brass ring on the merry-go-round because that’s there for anyone with a good reach. I’m talking about finding a new direction and then grabbing on thinking anything is possible.

To clarify once more, I don’t lightly abandon one pursuit for another. Part of allowing expectations to arise means knowing when what I’m doing is finished. I’ve either gone as far as I am able, or I’ve just exhausted possibilities. And that’s when I can see what’s coming. 

If this seems a dangerous way to live, it never has to me. I love to be 76-year-old me, sitting here feeling like something’s coming or about to happen. Maybe that’s why I’ve written this today. After all, not everything around the bend is life-changing. 

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