My gut is telling me to wait. Hold on. Brace for impact. Be still and hear the tiny, beautiful whisper, soft and sacred in the wind. 

Patience is not a virtue, not one I possess. I’m impulsive, driven to a fault, always ready to sprint, but quick to burn out in the middle.

Middle. 

It’s the scariest word I know. It feels like failure. Waiting feels like the inability to make a decision.

The doors continue to swing, I beg them to stop. I want them closed, an obvious answer to my pleading question.

Make me go. Force me to move. 

But the doors that open ask me to wait. They ask me to be present. Be here. Be in your body, in your mind, in your soul.

Exist apart from your world, exist and be beautiful right where you are. What you ask for will soon come. Just wait for one moment longer.