By: Rebecca Liston
I’m writing today during the final moments of the waxing of a Super Blue Moon. I have barely slept the last two nights, and, in total transparency, I have been a bit grumpy. My kids might even say I have been a LOT grumpy. Heck, even I would say I’ve been a LOT grumpy, now that I really think about it.
I feel on edge. Like I am teetering somehow on the cusp of something.
(“Oh,” says the voice in my head, “Kinda like the moon is right now.”)
The Super Blue Moon is teetering on the edge of full-on freakin’ brilliance and so, I dare to imagine, am I.
(Did I really just write that? Sounds a bit…bold? Braggy? Egocentric, maybe, to suggest that I am teetering on the edge of brilliance…ewwww…I am deeply uncomfortable right now…can I really publish this?! Yikes…)
I take a deep breath…let these emotions and their ensuing reactions float away. I deliberately re-place my feet firmly and squarely on the floor in front of me. Left foot. Right foot. I breathe deeply again. Square my shoulders. And pause.
“What if it’s true,” I hear, tentatively, quietly, a bit like I imagine the voice of one Cindy Lou Who (who was no more than two.)
“What if it’s true,” she repeats, “What if it’s true and you really are teetering on the edge of your own brilliance?” She asks, blinking up at me with those big, wide eyes with their massively long lashes.
I blink back at her, much like the Grinch caught in his act, a bit astonished to hear this wee voice, a bit startled by her precocity…and wondering, quite frankly, if I can come up with a lie and pat her on the head and send her back to bed…
But instead, I sink to the floor beside her.
“I don’t know, Cindy Lou, what if it is true? What would it mean, what would I do?”
(I cannot, even in the depths of this pseudo-existential crisis, resist a good rhyme.)
And we sit and we sit until our sitters are sore,
What could it mean? What’s the future have in store?
And here’s the thing, Dear Reader…I just do not know. Even though it is “right there,” even though I can practically taste it, I simply do not know what the heck any of this means.
And so, I stand up. I reach out my hand and help Cindy Lou to her feet. We brush the dust and dog hair from our bottoms and take stock of our surroundings.
“You know what, Cindy Lou? It really doesn’t matter, does it? I mean, I feel this teetering and I sense my own ‘waxing,’ if you will, but as to what that means or what I shall do, well, it doesn’t actually matter. Because here we are, we two, and the sun is shining, and the birds are singing, and all I really care about is that we are together and good things are happening and I would really like a cup of tea and a cookie. How about you?”
And she giggles and places her wee hand in mine, and I know that this moment, this very precise moment, is integral to whatever actually is coming next. This moment of letting go of needing to know, this moment of tending to my immediate needs, this moment of noticing all the goodness that surrounds me, this moment of taking this small hand in my own and sharing a cuppa and a cookie…
This moment is actually ME in my full-on freakin’ brilliance. And I shall allow this to be enough.
Rebecca Liston is cofounder and business intuitive at Las Peregrinas, a creative and consulting agency. She specializes in anchoring folks in a clear-eyed understanding of which path is theirs for the taking. She’s got one foot in the land of the subtle and unseen, and the other foot firmly planted in the land of ruthless pragmatism. Oh, and she swears like a sailor, which makes us love her more.
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