Why are we made to wait? Why are we not
omniscient? Why do decisions which seem as though they could be made in a week, take a month, or months? Why is it that a significant number of crucial life-factors can become uncertain simultaneously, and how are we to proceed in the face of such uncertainty? The underlying theme here seems to have something to do with the wisdom of patience.
We all know how easy it is to be functional, productive, and filled with gratitude and pep when
things are going our way. The very feeling that “things are going our way” seems
to be based on a sense of certainty regarding the present conditions of our
lives, and our agreement with and approval of these conditions. But if we only
ever got what we thought we wanted, especially right when we wanted it, wouldn’t
we be an entitled bunch of wusses, ripe for being shattered the moment a
barrista screws up our latte, or the instant we receive the first of many
rejection letters in the mail? We need to be made of more resilient stuff, not
only to “get by” in this world, but to move beyond what we thought were our
thresholds. Cliched as it is, adversity, including agonizing not-knowing over
long periods of time, builds character. I think one of the ways it does this is,
it challenges us to live in an exemplary manner (to walk our talk) even when
things are going poorly, or even when we don’t know how
things are going, because we’re in limbo, which is a difficult place to
be.
Curious as to how academics might define “limbo”
(a word so ever-present on my mind and lips these days, that I seem too
close to it to define it accurately, like trying to describe a seashell while looking at its blurred image under a microscope), I gave it a Google, and was amused to
discover the array of dimensions assigned to this concept and
space -- each one illuminating in its own way:
Limbo
(courtesy of merriam-webster.com/dictionary):
1 often capitalized: an abode of souls that are according to Roman Catholic theology barred
from heaven because of not having received Christian baptism
2 a: a place or state of restraint or confinement
b: a place or state of neglect or oblivion <proposals kept in
limbo>
c: an intermediate or transitional place or state
d: a state of uncertainty
: a dance or contest that involves bending over backwards and passing under a
horizontal pole lowered slightly for each successive
pass
Limbo, as a dance, is characterized (to use a
contradictory figure of speech) by an ante that is consistently upped: with each
round, the bar gets lowered, and dancers must become increasingly nimble to pass
beneath it without touching it. So, living in the face of profound not-knowing
can be conceived of as a dance: I’ll concur with that. Last night, after some
hoped-for knowledge was not revealed, leaving my own state of profound
not-knowing unchanged for at least another 48 hours, the only dance I seemed
capable of, in response, involved digging in my heels, crossing my arms,
scrunching up my face, and preparing an indulgent pan of enchiladas to the tune
of sad Latin American ballads. “Nimble” was not a word you would have used to
describe my response to the prolonged not-knowing. This morning, my dance could
be best described as grasping at straws – a movement prompted more often by
desperation than by grace. I come to this page seeking guidance during a
difficult time. These words are revealing to me a prescription: time
to get nimble, sister – not just to spell out why
being nimble when in limbo is important, but to do
it.
Before I go get nimble, though, one more thing…
Did you notice limbo definition 1b: a place or state of neglect or oblivion?
Yeah? Well, this one sent me searching for the definition of oblivion:
Oblivion
(again, courtesy of merriam-webster.com/dictionary):
1: the fact or condition of
forgetting or having forgotten; especially : the condition of
being oblivious
2: the condition or
state of being forgotten or unknown
Well, this definition really resonated with me,
in regards to two of four monumental not-knowings currently at play in my
life. What’s agonizing is this feeling of having been forgotten. In the absence
of communication, with so much hanging in the balance, I come to feel invisible
to those whose decisions will significantly impact my fate, and the fate of my
partner, Jason. This sense of invisibility, of forgotten-ness, can fuel
feelings of desperation and hopelessness. I’ve read some interesting arguments
for the value of hopelessness (in its ability to lead to a more unconditional
way of living), and I know bottoming out in desperation can lead to an awareness
of the places where our power counts, and the places where we do not have
control, which can serve as an invitation to surrender and to a healthier sense
of perspective. I welcome a healthier sense of perspective, as much as I enjoyed
last night’s enchiladas and woeful ballads. And so perhaps my task is to make
friends with this feeling of having been forgotten, as a means of inviting the
lessons to which this feeling may lead. I am reminded of my Buddhist training of
years ago, in which I was taught to regard every feeling, every experience, and
every encounter as a teacher. I still believe in the wisdom of this approach.
That which we reject, we usually fear, and that which we fear, we secretly feed
and empower through our fear.
So, today I vow to make friends with this
agonizing feeling of invisibility. I know in my heart that I am not invisible to
the Force that is orchestrating the flow of circumstance. I also know that at
the center of my agony there hangs a tiny drop of nectar, and it is the nectar
of my longing to step more fully into my purpose in this world. The news which I
await concerns opportunities to live my purpose more fully, and I know this is a
sacred desire, and, as such, that it does not go
unacknowledged.
I think there’s another lesson here, too, regarding the
“forgetting” that comes with oblivion, and that involves our own forgetting.
When I lose patience, when I grow desperate with a need to know that which I do
not yet know, I forget that there is a wisdom to the way things are unfolding,
just as they are. I forget that I am being held in the hands of whatever Power I
believe is at work in this world. I forget that I am not, in fact, forgotten,
in the most profound sense. What feels like being forgotten, is really just a
function of my own inability to see the bigger picture. When I humble myself
enough to acknowledge how partial my sight is in regards to the way things are
unfolding in my life, and all the variables that are at play in this process, my
respect for the mystery of the intricacy and wisdom with which circumstances
unfold, deepens. With this respect, comes awe, a sense of patience, and faith.
When I turn to these qualities as my “personal trainers”, I feel much more
capable of limboing
nimbly.