Lately the left side of my brain seems to be insisting that I must (MUST) have a plan. Its insistence is egged on by external factors, various people and institutions in different sectors of my life requiring discussion, and in some cases even the filling out of forms, to map out what I will be doing with my time over the next two years. It has been strange interacting with people in this way, since no one seems to be under the delusion that the resulting plan will actually play out in reality. Yet it’s of such importance to everyone that I do it anyway. One person even told me, just tell us what the plan is; we don’t care whether or not you actually follow it.
So on Sunday I found myself sitting on the couch, sharing a bottle of wine with The Photographer, discussing this bizarre situation. It felt like sitting in a boat after a flood, all the wasted remnants of a week’s worth of anxiety floating by casually, unremarkably, things that only days before had seemed like life or death matters. In a moment of clarity, I noted that much of the time, I feel I am a force in my own right, interacting with other forces in the universe, that I have an effect when I put my energy into things. On good days, I am even able to muster some faith that things work out when I am true to self and purpose, that I can ask for help and receive it, and that beautiful solutions can appear unexpectedly, undaunted by my limited capacity for imagining them. Then someone asks me to explain exactly HOW everything will work out, and suddenly, I feel incredibly small, alone, and unsure how I have ever found it within my power to even tie my shoes in the morning.
On Sunday I was fortunate enough to have someone who could help me out of the flood water and into the boat. I was reminded that the best way to realign with a more expansive sense of self is through connection with other. That in itself is a beautiful solution, one I could not have imagined.