And I Stay

There’s a gap that exists. And I feel it often. Between the two places I exist most.

Wanting to build something that matters.

A system. A process. A movement. A feeling that I could contribute to something bigger.

That changes the world.

The Push.

And wanting to feel life for what it shows me.

Without turning it into something. Without putting constraints on it. A feeling that I don’t need to optimise anything.

That changes me.

The Pull.

There’s a gap. And I feel it often.

A tension. Attention.

There’s a version of me somewhere in between, somewhere in the gap.

The gap makes me pause.

And reflect and rethink. I’m there often. There’s a tension.

And sometimes I’m frozen.

Frozen in overwhelm. Like looking out at the night sky and seeing all the stars but not being able to feel them.

Frozen in fear. Like watching my life go uncontrolled into the night.

Pausing. For the many choices I see. That I can make. That I allow. That go wrong.

Is it an act of vanity? To push on the things that merely appear to be virtuous. And meaningful.

Is it cowardly? To pull on the realities that appear before me and accept them as my path.

I’m floating. I’m falling. But I’m not quite feeling. This gap.

I’m there all the time. But yet I still don’t stay long enough to see what it is clearly.

What would it take to stay with this tension. In this gap. What would it teach?

There’s a version of me who has optimised infinitely. But is unloved. Misunderstood.

Or theres’ a version of me who has surrendered to the magic of existence. But is lost in chaos. Misplaced.

A tension. Needs attention.

Must I label it so? No vanity. No inaction. No cowardice.

This gap feels like clarity, waiting to happen.

But in that wait, there’s a necessary stillness.

What if this gap needs patience.

That my surroundings only become clear - when I stop trying to resolve them. Or labelling them.

My urge to define, to decide, on the Push or the Pull. Is what keeps it unclear.

But what if clarity is nothing to do with being clear.

What if I stay longer? What will be revealed?

I’ve felt it in moments, in the quiet times. When I’ve built, when I’ve let go.

When I’ve trusted.

Instinctively.

I sense a break of tension. I sense a revelation, appearing.

The glimmers of clarity. The elation. The feeling of warmth. The thawing of the ice.

Just knowing. Trusting the feeling.

And now I’m staying longer. In this beautiful silence.

Where I see what I’m meant to see.

I recognise. I trust.

But I must learn to not hold too tightly. That moulds and shapes something without feeling.

Because there’s something there. Evolving.

In the gap. That allows me to breathe. To release the weight of getting it wrong.

So I don’t force something that should never be. Or build something that doesn’t fit.

But I stay. I’m still learning. I’m still understanding when that weight lifts.

This isn’t easy. But it feels right.

The labels may fall away in time. And I will shift how I sit.

There’s a gap that exists.

And I stay.

Photo by Matteo Vistocco on Unsplash