Waiting, With Love

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I worry about not posting enough when feeling unwell, when my productivity decreases and thoughts tend to form at a slower pace.

And then there is now, a time of living and enjoying and feeling every fibre of every decision and every situation because I’m better, health-wise, than I have been in a long time, and I’m not quite carving out the time to write and to reflect because simply doing and being and breathing is beautiful and enough.

There is an edging towards the end of a journey and the beginning of something new, and sometimes words are lost and out of reach amongst the change-blaze, and it is all I can do to journey through and to plug myself into the experience. To really listen, and to feel.

For so long I’ve spoken about finding a way through fear, of journeying into and through, and I’ve wondered about the elusive other side. Now I am there, here, and as the final cog clicks into place I realise I’ve taken a huge step, a step only months ago I dreamed of, and nothing will ever be the same, in the very best way possible.

I want to share, but I am also enjoying quietly exploring every curve and every corner of this New Thing. It is delicious and daring and frightening and freeing, and yet because I can’t quite place the words I am worried I am writing about nothing, or writing the same thing over and over whenever I try, rather than touching upon my little truth.

There has been family time and celebration. There has been loss, and grief. There has been adventure and work and plenty of play – galleries and museums and jazz nights and Sunday morning walks. There has been learning and watching and reading and feeling, tarot and poetry and photographs and journalling. These are thoughts and posts half-formed, for now.

As much as I would like to write as I go, this metamorphosis, complex yet simple, isn’t quite complete. I am excited to share, when the words finally come and the ideas thread together, which they will. I know they will.

I worry, I do. What if people click unfollow? What if people grow tired of waiting? What if the world walks on without me? What if I am behind? What if I am not doing enough, trying enough, being enough?

Within the worry I think of the writers I adore, and I realise that regardless of how often they write I am faithful because their words touch and resonate, deep-down echoes. Such beautiful souls never fail to make me question, consider, wonder, explore, forging paths towards and between my own thoughts and experiences with theirs.

I will always wait patiently because what follows is soulful and sincere. If my scheduling falls short, if some weeks I post three times and others not at all, I draw comfort in knowing my friends and loved ones, on-screen and off, will wait for me, too, because life isn’t about words or content at it’s core, not really.

Life is about human connection, relationships, community, love. Spirit, which we carry around within, beyond the blog post, beyond the page. We cannot become lost or left behind or not enough as we are as whole today as we were yesterday, and whole is what we shall be tomorrow.

Spirit and connection, and so I am waiting, with love, for words while living as rich a life as possible in the ever so curious in-between.

With love & blessings,

Imogen

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