Just Fifty Feet Away

Ultima forsan. It's later than you think; literally, 'Perhaps the last'. These words are inscribed on some clocks to indicate that the moment of death; indeed, the moment of eternal judgment, may be at hand. The wise person treats every hour as though it were his/her last.

"We are just fifty feet away from the gate,"our pilot announced, "Just waiting for the way to be cleared. Thank you for your patience."

Just fifty feet, almost there but not really there. How interesting that I am finding myself waiting for this next new moment to arrive after almost three weeks on a European adventure. And, if you will indulge me here just a little bit, almost three years after losing my beloved husband to sudden illness - my personal GROUND ZERO - where I began creating something out of nothing.

A day earlier, I was under a bit of pressure, pressure I had created myself! You see my glorious trip was almost over and I had set things in motion by making a declaration. "This trip is my graduation present to myself." I told everyone this was so. "Things will really get going after I get back!" Now I am just fifty feet away from having to perform.

In waiting I feel anticipation and calmness mix into laughter. I am literally being held in place. I am suspended out farther than I have ever been from my old life while my gaze is caste ever forward. My body is condensed in this tin can waiting for the snap, click, fizz of an artisan's life to be opened and poured out upon the world. OK - can you tell I have been in flight for almost nine hours?

Still I am finding this idea of SUSPENSION is an illusion. It appears when we feel the weight of our past and the possibilities of our future combined with the lousy seat belts our minds use to tether us in place.

The bumpy parts are over and I am just fifty feet away from starting my new life. Having made my declaration I know I am prepared to move on.

But being just fifty feet away and having only a few sketchy plans in place I am wondering if I will actually follow through on them. 

"I have to do a lot," I tell myself. 

Or how about this, "I have a lot to do."

The shift in phrasing is subtle, but means loads to me - one who has come from ground zero to now.

For me rearranging these words makes me appreciate being pulled forward into a life of my choosing rather than being pushed ahead into a life fashioned by circumstance. I am grateful I have a lot to do. I am enthusiastic to get going at a pace that suits me well, arrives with joy and unfolds with ease.

I have come a long way to see myself here - just fifty feet away from the gate! And I am so grateful to be so close.

What pulls you forward?

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