From walk on Milwaukee's Oak Leaf Trail, February 09, taken with iPhone (using CameraBag filters)
I'm in this interesting space of waiting lately. I have let down as many of my old leaves of being, and I feel a bit barren without all that old foilage to cover me.
I can sense the new sprouts coming forth, ready to bud out of my skin. But they haven't yet emerged.
I sometimes feel impatient with this new "me" that is being birthed. Come on, I demand, sprout already.
But I know that nature is wise. And that all things bloom in the divine right time.
So I practice the waiting.
The waiting for the new to emerge. Trusting in the coming spring. Knowing there is a natural process at work, perfectly unfolding.
I am practicing being with the waiting in a present way — noticing without attachment. (Admittedly sometimes easier said than done.)
I am practicing feeling all that comes up for me around the waiting. (Discomfort, fear, worry — inner-knowing and joy, too.)
And I am learning the profound lessons that that waiting can teach me about patience and trust and the nature of life. Indeed there is a time for every season under heaven.