Need more time? Stand and wait.

Sometimes the weight is heavy. We come to the end of the week, of the month, of ourselves. And we feel it all.

The worries, grief, burden. The possibilities and hope too. But how to go forward, how to make it work, how to get done? So many incessant “hows” demanding a plan. 

Sometimes we just don't know how, at least not yet. And we have to find a way to stand and wait. To hold steady until there's a new burst of energy, or fresh insight, or reinforcements, or release. To not abuse ourselves with words we'd never say to another. To hold ourselves with kindness as we hold the burdens. 

Standing and waiting offers perspective too. In stillness, we may recall that we are not the only one, not alone. That we have a lineage and a future. 

One day in 2016, I carried such a heavy burden, concerning two of my grandchildren, and I could do nothing but wait. I went to a forest in British Columbia, to an ancient stand of cedar trees, one a thousand years old. Sheltered on a hillside with just the right conditions, they stand protected together. 

I stood among those trees and wept that day, leaning my cheek on their strong trunks. These grandmothers comforted me as I realized how long they'd stood, how much they'd seen, how old their mothers were. 

This perspective on time brought awe and was itself comfort. I took this picture and wrote the poem that day. 

Ancient Cedars Trail, British Columbia, Canada, September 23, 2016

“Grandmother”

before

this ancient cedar forest

grandmother

stood with kin

before nation

before province

though not

before tribe

before a millennia

of summer hopes

of winter worries

before

her ancient mother

dropped seed cone in protected soil

to give birth

before

this day's autumn sorrow.

i drop tears on her roots

lay palms on her skin stripped smooth

lean on her hollowed trunk

grandmother's comfort.

~ Renée Smith

September 23, 2016 Ancient Cedars Trail, British Columbia

The sorrow and worry I held eight years ago has passed. Loved ones are safe again. Wounds healed; fading scars remain. And, reading this again, I can still feel the comfort and perspective of standing and waiting among those cedars. 

In these Loving Leaders messages, I've been reflecting with you on dealing with the pressures of time. And since no single solution can resolve this complex challenge, we are gathering multiple strategies like this, this, and this, to make progress by layering these together.  

For today, standing and waiting, like the Ancient Grandmother Cedars, is a strategy too.