As I mentioned in my last post, I've been going through something this year, a transformation of some sort. I'm so deeply enmeshed in this change that I haven't been able to step outside of it to identify it, name it. Fighting to see what is happening to me, within me, is futile. I hold on then let go, grasp onto something, anything, but it's pointless. If I have come to realize anything at this stage, it's that I am not in control.
This world wants us to believe that we are in total control of our destiny. Grab the bull by the horns, they insist. You can do anything! And maybe that's true for awhile. You set a goal, you take action to achieve said goal and ultimately, you reach the goal. Now what?
Forgive me for getting deep and philosophical here, but for lack of a better explanation at this point, I believe I'm in the "now what?" stage. After achieving a lifelong goal of publishing a book, I feel a bit lost at sea with no rescue boat in sight. I try to go with the flow of life's current, but if you're a self-admitted control freak like me, you want to know where you're headed so that you can chart your course, steer the ship.
But I'm finding that somehow I've become a stowaway aboard a private yacht. I don't believe I've seen our captain nor do I know where we're going, but I have to trust that wherever we're headed it's to a safe harbor. Most of the time, my trust turns to rust and I feel out of control. Destination unknown.
I'm not the best passenger.
I grab hold of the rail then release my grip. Clench hard, let go. Ebb and flow.
Meanwhile, we sail on...
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