The checkout line, the spit up, and the wandering time

Your future self is already rooting for you.

It's okay if it feels like a wandering time.

I remember standing in the checkout line at Central Market, holding my newborn after picking her up from daycare. I was swaying--the way you learn to sway when you have a baby--rocking her while we waited. Spit up on my pastor clothes. Sun coming through the windows. 

Part of my mind was running the list of everything else I could be doing. The other part was marveling that I had learned something entirely new in a a matter of months: how to move my body in one place in such a way that sothed and healed this small person I'd been away from all day. 

It didn't seem like anything was happening in that moment. But it was.

We have always known this, even when we forget. Siddhartha Gautama waiting under a Bodhi tree. The Israelites wandering toward a promised land they couldn't see. Those aren't nothing moments. Those are the steps of the path being revealed--these are the incubation periods for a new means of existence. 

A calm pond doesn't look like much is happening, but the stillness is the work. The presence is restorative. The wandering is the way. 

I didn't know then that I was learning how to soothe, how to rest, how to let my mind wander. All of those are spiritual skills for navigating shaky ground. Skills I would need and use for the rest of my life! 

Wayfinding Practice: A Perception Experiment 
Close your eyes. 
Imagine yourself six months from now, looking back at you in this moment. Then five years. Then ten. Each version of you watching the you of right now navigating this wilderness time--and feeling proud, connected, warm, excited. Like watching a beloved character find their way toward something good. 

Let that warmth travel back through time and reach you today. Let it rock you, the way you would rock someone you love, with strength and calm for whatever is in front of you right now. 

Your future self is already rooting for you. Let that sink in. 

This reflection is part of Wayfinder's Weekly, my free Monday newsletter for people navigating threshold seasons. Subscribe here

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