I stand, stock still, frozen, immobilized, and more – petrified, but not in the sense of danger, rather in the sense of one once biological, living and moving freely through space, and now motionless rock, stony, solid and everlasting, and I’ve gone and used up all my commas in the first sentence. But I’m like that.
Yes, exactly like that! I’m at a comma in my life. It’s not a period, putting an end to one thought and marking a beginning to the next. It’s not a new paragraph, I’ve already done that and I’m well into it. But it’s a comma, a point where there’s more to this thought, and worth a moment’s pause for emphasis.
It’s a small thing, that short inhale as you continue expressing an idea. Barely noticeable. But when you’re exactly in it, paying close attention to that precise moment, you’re breathless. And here I stand, in my comma, on the high precipice of this moment. I look back over my shoulder at all that has come before, and ahead to all the possibility of that which is to come, and I take stock. In this brief yet timeless instant, in the absolute silence of now, I can look back and take notice, without judgement, of all that has passed. I can see it shape the choices now before me.
Those choices loom large. The moment I take a step, as my foot hits a path, all the other choices change. Some disappear, some alter, new ones appear unanticipated, and down the hill I charge toward the next comma.
Only rarely is that moment recognized. Even rarer do I bother to allow it to belay me, although I should. Taking stock is always beneficial. But it’s rarely painless, so I generally walk on by.
Today, though, it caught me. And I stand breathless on that precipice. Looking backward. Looking forward. All those choices taken and those to come. Today, it’s not a measure of how well I’m doing (never good enough) but simply a notice of where I am. From whence and to whither. And for once, just this one time, at last, I can say: I am content.
This is a good place to be. It’s a good place to have arrived. It’s a good place from which to depart. The array of choices before me are varied and interesting and mostly non-threatening. So here in this motionless moment, lost to time, right here right now in this comma, all is well.
And what more can a person hope for in life, ever? Surely, ecstasy and over the moon thrills etc, but those highs are balanced by all the lows. I’m not talking about that sort of thing, the amplitude of emotion. I refer to taking stock, at any given moment, pausing in your comma. Finding it a good place, and ‘all is well’, is its own kind of thrill.
Pleased, I’m about to plant my foot on my next path. Wish me luck.