I am a dichotomy of sorts. At times my ideals conflict with my actions. One of those being that of timing. I have an awful sense of timing; despite having a strong reverence for the value of time itself. I realize life is too short and many people are dying lately; no words should be left unsaid. Actions are meant to be intentional, meaningful, but sure. We’re only given one life, and a numbered set of chances. Surprisingly, even to myself, I’ve had my brave moments.
I am not, by far, one of those people who go from spontaneous moment to the next. Maybe because I feel peace when something I put work and effort into, actually meets success. Some things are meant to have the accompaniment of planning. Even important, lofty things like dreams cannot become reality without your own two hands’ determined grasp. Regardless, unplanned or thought out, each transition from one season to another is birthed through a single moment. Where you make a decision to move or act. Granted, it’s only 1/18 of a second in light of a lifetime, but these moments are the vehicles of our lives.
The moment where I decided to pick up that pencil and paper and write my first poem.
…Where I filled out that college application.
…Where I committed by body to a healthy lifestyle.
…Where let my guard down to him and opened my heart.
…When I prayed that unforgotten prayer.
I’ve had my brave moments. But I wasn’t alone.
Something was always present; beckoning me on. Calling me higher.
Encouraging me not to live life afraid; hiding from the bad moments.
Which is why I don’t see life as a rollercoaster meant to only be enjoyed and endured until the ride is over. Each turn, rise, and fall is meaningful. The destination is sure to come, but that doesn’t make the journey any less beautiful.
Look up from your grind and notice the handwriting in between each minute on the clock. Pay attention to the hidden pull of Love, and its urgency to call you higher from where you’ve settled.
Timing speaks and it says that there’s more.