There comes a time when you realize that some matters can’t be figured out, that over thinking a situation is futile, answers aren’t forthcoming. Sometimes you just have to listen to your heart. Thus, it came to me. I decided to change the story. The one that I had lived, the one that I had told myself for far too long. I decided to build a bridge to Promise. Not that I didn’t ever try. Previously, I constructed a ramp. Before that, another attempt, many attempts, in fact. Always, my efforts created a temporary, precarious structure that offered an opportunity to cross over to a hopeful promise, from the abyss to solid, level ground, to the promise of belonging, the promise of forgiveness. Always, I would start the precarious journey, gingerly stepping away from the safety of the zone I had created. Always, I would make it to the half waypoint where I would falter, afraid to push on. The voices whispering, Go back. I would listen. First came fear, stealthily overtaking my head, moving downward to tangle my heart, finally paralyzing my movements, until my body ached to return to the safety of the land called, Limbo, the place where action isn’t required, where one waits until another day, a maybe later place. A place where indecision becomes a comfortable existence. Where we take missed opportunities to the grave. Where I wait for you to offer your hand.
Limbo Land is a dangerous place to exist. Within the walls, too much thinking occurs, not enough action. Limbo time fools one into believing that there is always enough of it. Maybe later is the brand chosen to announce this place. Someone is wrong, I am right, maybe later, are the mantras. Individuals walk around smiling, holes in their souls, constantly seeking to fill themselves up with anything, anything that numbs the pain and allows one to accept, maybe later. It is a land that allows reflection time. Just be aware, it does not require one to take action. After all, actions speak louder than words. You can exist in Limbo Land; you just can’t live there. Fear is the ruler and like a despot, Fear will always silence that seedling voice inside of you, the one that whispers, What if? Maybe now? Stay awhile, just be aware nothing is ever accomplished and nothing will ever improve when you are lounging in this joyless place.
Perhaps, the saddest souls inhabiting Limbo are the drifters, ones that have turned their backs on one another, so-called, family. Ones connected by similar DNA, shared blood lines, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters. Our sisters and brothers, our mothers and fathers. What on earth is worth more than those sacred relationships? We cry the same tears. Doors close, wars rage on. In the silence of the night, as we prepare to sleep, do we find a quiet calm? Or do we mourn for an open door, acceptance, forgiveness, and restored peace in our world? We are all connected and when one link of the chain breaks, we are each weakened by the snap. Forgive, reach out, come back, are the sorrowful, yet, hopeful words that whisper from beyond Limbo. Be still and listen, you will hear the whispers on the back of the winds that blow across the deep abyss that separates Limbo from Promise. Perhaps you will hear my voice. I sit beneath the stars and pray. Maybe later.
We have waited long enough. Sometimes you just have to listen to your heart.