"If you know what you want, then you're one step closer to it. If you take a step in that direction then you're actually making it happen. Think small when it comes to steps and big when it comes to dreams.”
(From Begin with Yes by Paul Boynton)
Who knew? I always thought you had to accomplish a goal or hold up a diploma or show your credentials or beam at the camera, trophy in hand – in order to realize a dream.
But the writer suggests you are already swinging something into momentum if you take a step in that direction. That's pretty cool.
So here's a shout-out to all of us who feel stymied by inertia. To the one who is in between jobs, staring at another email that says, “We'll keep you in mind.”
For the one with big ideas and empty pockets, edging ever closer to the safety of a “real job” with a steady-income-minus-the-dreams.
To the shadow-dweller who has something to say to the world, but hangs back, silenced into obscurity by the prettier, the brighter, the smarter ones.
For the one still figuring things out, feeling confused by the critics; just wanting a mentor to come for the journey.
To the person leaving a cluttered desk at the office, returning to a chaotic household, wondering when life shifts into neutral.
For the unrestored, the broken. The one ready to forgive, but nobody's beating a path toward the reconciliation.
To the one like you, like me – holding that piece of chalk and staring at a blackboard of symbols and numbers which absolutely do not add up.
These are the gloomy in-between places, the gaps that yawn, the caverns that loom black and bottomless. These are the intervals of the-not-yets, the waiting, the places where the only answer is an echo of silence.
But maybe, just maybe, we're stepping in a direction that holds the answers.
The other night, I sat for an hour in total silence. It turned out to be a blessing, a benediction on what had been a noisy day. All that day, I had pursued an answer to a life problem. I had pushed words into the air with my prayers and pleadings. Unsatisfied, I had turned up the car radio and thrummed out the questions in my head with a drowning out melody and back beat. When that didn't work, I gave way to anger and listened to the darker voices of doubt and fear. They only led to confusion and more questions.
Drained and at wit's end, I drove to a favorite spot for viewing the sunset. In golden, utter silence, almost without breathing, I witnessed the hand of God putting the world to bed. A green and gently sloping landscape was bathed in reds, oranges, purples and pinks. An American Flag unfurled audaciously in a crisp breeze. Trees-not-yet-green looked hushed and majestic.
The world stopped, and I bore witness to it.
God placed His signature across the horizon as the sun gathered in the rosy light and penciled it neatly across the tops of hills. Hills in silhouette. Orange orb dipping behind, silent and profound.
Blessed, blessed benediction.
I drove home.
The Great Silence had tapped me on the shoulder, inviting me to be okay with no-noise. Exhausted now, I rested in its presence, reveled in it.
Later, the questions would come again, niggling me with their persistence. But my new ally, Silence, pushed a hush against the noise, and I slept all through the night.
Silence – and I – reclaiming lost territory. Taking back the unknowns and learning to live with them. Learning to live inside the intervals, the in-betweens, the not-yet-but-maybe-soons, of life.
Allow Silence to join you in the journey, and take an hour some evening to witness the unfolding of a glorious, golden sunset.