What are we waiting for? Answer: TBD

Colorful wanderings of a pensive mind. DC, August 2012.
At the start of summer, I granted myself a mental summer vacation. My body had no plans to travel to far-flung lands or hole up at the beach, but I figured that didn't prevent my mind from meandering wherever it damn well pleased for at least three months.

Besides, I thought, it's been a hard spring. And I'm starting school again in the fall. Soon I'll be filled to the brim with thinking -- best to rest the noggin now.

My goals were straightforward:
  • Read a lot.
  • Schedule less.
  • Be outside more.
  • Go on a summer date.
  • Let my mind wander whenever, wherever it wants without guilt or censure.

I've achieved them all, I'm proud to say. My library card got a workout, spontaneity found me again, the summer heat didn't faze me, my summer dates (plural!) were funny and fun, and my synapses racked up major rewards on their Frequent Flyer program.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the fall. My mind wandered in as much as it wandered out. Thinking became a contact sport -- all cyclical and circular, with dips, fits, starts, spurts, peaks, and pops to spare.

At first it felt self-indulgent. Then comfortable. Then uncomfortable. Then exhausting. And the biggest surprise was that all the wanderings and wonderings kept leading back to one core thought:

What am I waiting for?

Not in a "why don't you just do it?" way. I mean as in, "What, pray tell, is coming next?"

Why all the shaping, molding, and kneading recently?

What am I being prepped for?

Where will I arrive? And when?

[Side note: Not knowing the answers is killing me. KILL.ING.ME. To the point that when I took a lunch hour break last week, ostensibly for coffee, I instead ended up in front of the Mary statue at the cathedral where I bawled my eyes out and hiccuped, "What do you want? What now???" And I didn't have tissues. And returned to the office covered in snot. Classic.]

My spider sense tells me this is not a "final destination" scenario. I'm not moving toward a single endpoint, simply to the next stop. So everything I've accumulated this summer might be meant for the immediate moment or the next big phase (or maybe both). I just don't know.

Regardless, my brain and spirit feel mightily tilled, more than they have in a long time. They're tired, but expectant. Ready, even, in spite of my baser objections.

In which case, we'd best get to planting.

Prayer #223: Ready Freddy

Forgive me for feeling entitled, God, but You've put me through the ringer for months now -- years, even -- and I have my hand out for the pot of gold that justifies this crazy ride along the rainbow's stormy arc.

I am as ready as I'll ever be. Literally. I'm more ready now than I was an hour ago, and by tomorrow I'll be unstoppable, especially with a good night's sleep.

So let's get this show on the road. Time for the big reveal. Put me in, coach, I'm ready to fight. Because fight I will until You answer me.