A Look Into the Future

I have a phone appointment this week to talk to an intuitive counselor (okay, okay, a psychic).

I know I need to meditate when I start reaching for the crystal balls, the magic tinctures, the Tarot cards and the aura cleansings. I know it's time to go for a run, to take a nap, to write, to read, and most of all, to sit still, when I feel myself grasping for answers.

I've come to recognize this impulse for what it is: a sheer, undeniable, plain-jane desire for someone to tell me how things will turn out, what I should do. Rescue me! SOS!

The divine kicker is that I have premised my livelihood on finding answers within. Aha! We teach what we have to learn, my dear friends.

And so, Nan O'Brien and I will talk on Wednesday for thirty minutes. I just couldn't help myself, despite the fact that when I have sought out "answers" in the past, more voices have confused matters where I would ultimately be best served by trusting my own inner wisdom.

What is that inner wisdom saying now? It's saying I am blessed beyond measure. It's saying that Greg and I are great partners and we should just own that on the work front. It's saying that not knowing is what we do best, and look where it has gotten us so far. It's saying that we cannot predict or envision what's to come. It's saying, when in doubt, rearrange the furniture, get some sleep, then move from thinking to doing.

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When Aviva was a few hours old, I asked Greg if he had had any pangs of disappointment that she was a girl. "I think we got just the baby we needed," he answered, without missing a beat.

It has become something of a credo for him, and to some degree, for me too - although I admit I sometimes resist it. You get the life you need, it goes. The relationships, the breaks and the punches, the blessings and the disasters. You get the dog you need and the kids you need. You get exactly what you are prepared and ready to receive.

Do I believe this? I want to. This morning, I had an initial consultation with a micro-business advisor. She pointed out that not only are we starting a business; we're "initiating an industry" is how she put it. Are we crazy? Is this what we need? Are we adrenaline junkies? It's not how I think of myself, but there's clearly something creative and invigorating about being, as Greg says, this close to the edge. It reminds me of a quote I saw recently: "Life begins where your comfort zone ends."

Can I dwell in knowing that for today, we have enough, just what we need? The alternative is to get pulled out by the undertow of fear and confusion. And I don't know about you, but the one time I experienced a strong undertow - just yards away from the shore - I was scared. I panicked. I swam like hell.

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Yesterday, Greg spoke of carrying a heavy stone. What if he could just hold that stone, notice how it felt, without worrying about how he was going to get through his days lugging it around? What if he could hold it close and realize that he could put it down whenever he wanted? These were his questions. And he was not looking to answer them.

I am always jumping for the answers.

And once again, I come back to faith, to trust, to humble prayer, to whispering out loud, to that tingling at the crown of my head that makes me understand why so many faith traditions use various forms of head coverings as a sign of faith and humility. I can't cancel my appointment for Wednesday; it's pre-paid. But I will go into it with my kippah on, at least a proverbial one.

To peer into the future, maybe I only have to look as far as the pile of stones by this rushing river, each one placed there by us. A word, a gesture, a decision, an action, an inaction, a breath, a moment. Here are boulders and pebbles, light and dark, wobbly and uneven, sturdy, smooth, all in some kind of balance, perfect perhaps in its own way.

"Stones" image from deedee9:14