ALCHEMY EDITION 131

I was in conversation with a good friend this past week about taking the nonlinear path. The long way, the shortcuts, the path that requires a tolerance of many a blind spot. I suppose at some point along the way, the nonlinear path with all its twists and turns creates a kind of Bingo. Sooner or later numbers fall together to create a win, or at least some sort of recognizable pattern or meaning.  This birdseye view requires a perspective that I think can really only come from time. And maybe some stillness. 

 

I feel like I’m at the precipice of a Bingo myself right now. Nearing this precipice has been the result of a pretty massive life upheaval. One that I chose, one that I choose, and one that continues to unfold in ways that surprise and delight me. I’m really good at these upheavals. This most recent reinvention has been the latest of probably a dozen that I’ve both created and sustained throughout my life. There is something about that first initial quake that allows me to let go of smaller little aftershocks. Once the big one hits, what follows always seems smaller and more manageable. At least it feels that way for me. 

 

Currently, I’m spending most of my time exploring what I think of as our foundation. The foundation of our body and mind. And the conclusion I’m reaching is very different from what I imagined. And that’s the kind of surprise I truly love. I can see a few parts of my path gathering in the corners of my map, creeping closer and closer to each other. I do not know how they will come together, I delight in the anticipation and surprise of this! There’s the therapist, the childhood development expert, the yoga teacher, the fine artist, mother, Human Design guide, consultant, and skateboarder all coming in from the edges. Somehow they all make sense in my body. Not sure in my head, but that seems less important right now. There is a way these all come together and meet, but maybe it is not my job to solve that mystery before its time. 

 

And that’s the real difference between this earthquake and all my others. This time I decided to wait. And what a horrible and wonderful and vulnerable and powerful experience it has been. I hate waiting. For anything. Of course I can and do, but inside I’m screaming. Loudly. My energy wants me to move, both my body and my mind. ALL THE TIME. 

 

Waiting SUCKS.

 

But it can also be very different from how we normally contextualize waiting. And maybe that’s because what I’m engaging in right now isn’t waiting, or stillness. It feels like something different that maybe we don’t have a name for yet. I arrived at this place through many practices, but if I had to narrow it down to one single idea, is it this:

 

We are one vessel.

 

All of our energy exists in one container. When it comes to energy, we are not separate constructs of work, parenthood, partnership, hobbies, friendship, and leisure. All the parts of us are mixed in together, sharing the same energy, creating the same energy. It is all one thing. 

 

This seems like a basic concept, but in practice, I have found it does not come naturally. We have become so accustomed to imagining ourselves in this way, separate entities that might only briefly speak to each other, but rarely commingle. But in reality, all these entities are birthed from the same source. And that source is one singular, magical, powerful being. And this makes the art of waiting, a truly different experience. Waiting becomes more of a shift than a standstill. More of an opportunity than a stuckness. Waiting from this perspective breathes. 

 

So what does this new waiting look like? 

 

I’m still finding out, but so far I’ve learned that it’s actually really fun. 

 

Where I am waiting most right now is with work. And that is hard. And also annoying, because I LOVE what I do and I want to do MORE of it. Which is a good thing, but also drives me to push, pursue, chase and force, which is exhausting. And also isolating. My first instinct with work is always to push. More clients, better website, more content, more projects, more connections. More of everything. But when I push to achieve these things, I take on the birth and architecture of the pursuits myself and exclude others from being a part of it all. From lending their energy, insights, feedback, and perspective. When we do it all ourselves and force and rush that path, we fail to extend an invitation to our own party. And people want to be invited. 

 

The truth is, work has been going great this year. I just closed Zelma Rose in May, pivoted to a brand new business and right now I have a growing practice of business mentorship clients, Human Design clients, and a fine art studio practice. Everything growing at its own pace. The clients who have found me, been referred to me, or somehow came across my work have been extraordinary. Every time I meet with a new client, I think, this is exactly the person I want to be working with. And after the life of a clinician seeing way too many patients a day in multiple settings, the difference is stark and illuminating.  So instead of pushing and forcing for more, faster and all those things, I surrender to a shared pace. One that invites others, and also relies on others to sit with my offers, send people my way, and this process has led the right people to me. It is here that I practice waiting. And I definitely kind of hate it, but as a scientist, I’m aware that the results are impressive. So I continue to wait. 

 

Where waiting breathes is everywhere else in my life. Because I am one vessel, waiting in one area allows me to spend my energy in other areas. And this has been a really new concept for me. If I am allowing for waiting with work. I have all this energy to put into other things. And putting my energy in these other things is how I can tolerate the waiting and an absence of pushing. Because all my energy is all of my energy and not compartmentalized, time spent skateboarding, actually feeds my work opportunities and energy. Time spent doing enjoyable coursework feeds all aspects of my life as well. It is bigger than all these little compartments. Energy spent in leisure, feeds energy at work, in relationships, and across all areas. Everyday instead of pushing on one area over and over and over again, I dive into something I love just a little more deeply. 

 

Sounds simple, right? It should be, but it’s hard. I’m not wired this way. Few of us are. This has been an enormous trust exercise for me. It shouldn’t be hard to trust my joy, but damn, it is. By now I have a small body of evidence that points to yes, for me, this way of waiting has worked and continues to work, but it certainly doesn’t seem logical. And maybe that’s the point? 

 

Outside of allowing myself to be in receivership while waiting this way of waiting has also brought tremendous clarity. Things do not seem as hard as they were. And I do not think this ease means easy. I work hard. But this ease is more the result from clarity. A lack of confusion, a knowingness about the next right thing. 

 

I guess that has been the real selling point of waiting for me. It’s uncomfortable and frustrating, but if you can do it actively, the result is clarity. 

 

And that’s a Bingo. 

 

xxx

-LAS