Waiting by Leza Lowitz

I cannot express the depth of this poem. It moves me deeply. I feel like it tells my story. I floundered in my purpose and when I was younger I had no idea what I was capable of. I was surrounded by such great people and felt so small. Now, I see myself completely differently. Wisdom from age has taught me that I am quite a force to be reconned with! It is not too late to change and follow my dreams. It is not too late to make a difference in this world. We come to a point where we cannot be kept small. We must bloom, and when we do, we give others permission to do the same. By changing ourselves we change the world. ~ Beth

 

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You keep waiting for something to happen,

the thing that lifts you out of yourself,

catapults you into doing all the things you’ve put off

the great things you’re meant to do in your life,

but somehow never quite get to.

 

You keep waiting for the planets to shift

the new moon to bring news,

the universe to align, something to give.

Meanwhile, the piles of papers, the laundry, the dishes, the job–

it all stacks up while you keep hoping

for some miracle to blast down upon you,

scattering the piles to the winds.

 

Sometimes you lie in bed, terrified of your life.

Sometimes you laugh at the privilege of waking.

But all the while, life goes on it its messy way.

And then you turn forty. Or fifty. Or sixty…

and some part of you realizes you are not alone

and you find signs of this in the animal kingdom –

when a snake sheds its skin its eyes glaze over,

it slinks under a rock, not wanting to be touched,

and when caterpillar turns to butterfly

if the pupa is brushed, it will die–

and when the bird taps its beak hungrily against the egg

 

It’s because the thing is too small, too small,

and it needs to break out.

 

And midlife walks you into that wisdom

that this is what transformation looks like–

the mess of it, the tapping at the walls of your life,

the yearning and writhing and pushing,

until one day, one day

you emerge from the wreck

embracing both the immense dawn

and the dusk of the body,

glistening, beautiful

just as you are.

 From: Yoga Heart: Lines on the Six Perfections