Because I Can Type, I can Have A Blog.

Anyone can have a blog.  Well, anyone that can reach a computer with internet and string a few words together forming at least a semi coherent sentence.  Put that way, certainly not anyone can have a blog, and surely, many people shouldn't.  What makes me so special, that I am one of the "approved" millions that gets to rant it out online?  I fall under the privileged category, having the tools and where with all necessary to make it happen, along with the slight ability to corral some words together into a sensical thought.

Nice to meet you.

A common theme that has been quietly haunting my life and most recently pressing with increased urgency is that of impatience.  The feeling of wanting desperately to "be there" is one of such familiarity.  Yet I know the worn out expression that, "it isn't the destination that is important, it's the journey."  And, at fear of sounding like an insincere brat, the truth is that I am enjoying the journey.  I take time to laugh and appreciate.  I'm alive, I'm well, I'm surrounded with good company.  But I'm no Buddha and sometimes my ego finds the opening and goes for it.

So why this impatience nipping at my heals, and how to keep it at bay?

 I believe my impatience is building because I have kept it stifled at great lengths, hog tied and gagged, thrown in the trunk of my life, willed to keep quiet.  I willed it as such because I didn't really want to think about what it wanted.  It wanted to know when we were getting there, if we were close, and that is the most annoying question to ask someone who has no god damned idea where they are going.  How do you answer that question other than a repeatedly furious I DON'T KNOW, shortly there after followed by an uninspired yeah, sure, almost.  At least the first answer was more honest.  But the second answer became the all too common answer.  I got tired of trying to figure out where I was going.  I was uninspired.  I was a little bit hopeless.  I was scared.

Let's talk about now.  The truth is that I am still scared.  And that I still don't really know where I am going.  But I'm giving myself permission to dream a little bit, and to play, and to experiment.  I'm learning how to let go of the fear of failing, or the fright of commitment, of the endless self judgements.  I'm remembering that just because he is doing this, or she is doing that, doesn't have to mean a damn thing about where or what I am doing.  It's a freeing thing to know that my path is my own.  I forgive myself for the misunderstanding that I should be like anyone other than myself.  I am right where I need to be.

There.  That feels a lot better, no?  That's all I have to tell that little impatience monster and he skulks off,  defeated.  For the moment, I've won the battle.  Tomorrow is another day, and next week, and next month, and next year, but if I can live with this sense of self assured calm, the space between here and there seems like a nice place to be.