The closed sign

AND WHEN I thought about it (you probably saw it right off), a knitting circle of mythic bawdy wise women is no less romantic an idea than the young knight in the meadow, is it?

Though a friend of mine asked to join the circle, so I am glad I wrote about it, even if it exposes me as still starry-eyed after all these years. 

Today I read a line about a fictional character who was drifting through life, "lacking ambition but full of expectation." 

It caught my attention. Is that me? I wondered. Or feared. Because I sometimes I have a sinking realization that I have spent too much time drifting, waiting for things to happen, instead of deciding what I want and exerting myself.  

Avoiding setting challenges for myself, in the mistaken belief that I am being kind to myself. Like, no challenges, no stress. 

I dislike stress. People say there is good stress and bad stress, but honestly? I've never learned to like any type. 

Some people thrive on it, like another of my friends. She is diligent, highly goal-oriented. Sets herself daily, monthly and yearly challenges, and is very accountable to herself. She cultivates the habits she needs in order to meet the challenges, and she DOES meet them. It's admirable and probably quite satisfying for her. 

Alas, her way is not my way. 

Screw it. What I said about stress? I don't like it... but so what? I do want to risk something. I want to throw myself in the middle of something uncomfortable. I want to grow bigger. I want to take down the "closed" sign. 

What? How? Where? 

The only question I don't have is why. 

Between

Limbo is a strange place to be. It can be defined as a transitional state, and also as a state of confinement. Maybe as if all the lights went out, and you're feeling your way around the edges of the known world with your hands alone.

Right now, I am in several big, fat limbos. Unmoored and somewhat burdened by the weight of all this waiting. It puts me in mind of the time I got caught in a massive crowd leaving Taste of Chicago. People pressed against me tightly on all sides as we were forced to inch forward in unison through a bottleneck. To keep from panicking, I had to pretend that I didn't know that if just one person started pushing, I'd suffocate or be trampled. It probably lasted less than five minutes—but spiritually, it took an uncomfortably long time.

One limbo state is about to end. The company where I've worked for 5 years announced a year ago that it was relocating far away. I decided to wait until my services were no longer required in order to receive the severance package. Two months ago I received my official exit date, which is finally coming up next week.

It's been a long process, as friends have moved on to new jobs, new employees have been hired and trained, and I've stayed. The whole thing has required a sort of zen/passivity that usually feels energy-sucking, but that at other times feels like it's clearing out huge spaces. Of the external and internal sort.

What one person calls "waiting," another might call "being" or even "becoming." Demolish the autopilot routine and structure of one's daily life, and possibilities arise. So it is with me. I feel ready to let go of so much. I've tossed out a whole shelf of personal journals spanning many years; thousands of words about thoughts I used to have and things I used to feel. Donated piles and piles of books that now others may read and treasure. Tossed away things things things, the having of which was once important to me, but that somehow—through some under-the-radar alchemy—no longer is.

I'm not done with the limbos yet, but I have at least one brilliant plan. Very soon, I'll move on to much doing. But until then, I've got a couple more weeks to fill up the metaphorical and real trash bags with what I don't want anymore, to make room for what I do.