Some of us wait for a bolt of creativity to compel us to paint or pound out words on the keyboard. But you might have to wait a long time for that inspiration, and then your fingers might be too arthritic to caress the correct keys on the piano or move the paintbrush in just the right angle. If you wait too long, your legs might collapse beneath you as you attempt a tango boleo.
by Barbra Cohn
Everyone waits in line for groceries and train crossings. At one time or another, we sit in waiting rooms anticipating a dental filling, a colonoscopy, a flu shot, or massage. We wait for our kids to come home from school with lunchboxes that stink from half-eaten tuna sandwiches. We wait for a new love interest to call, and sometimes we wait with tear-stained cheeks. We eagerly wait in stuffy offices to sign closing papers on a new home, and we wait reflectively to sign our last will and testament and durable power of attorney. We wait for the tea kettle to whistle, the ice cream to soften, and for the popcorn to pop.
Some of us wait for a bolt of creativity to compel us to paint or pound out words on the keyboard. But you might have to wait a long time for that inspiration, and then your fingers might be too arthritic to caress the correct keys on the piano or move the paintbrush in just the right angle. If you wait too long, your legs might collapse beneath you as you attempt a tango boleo.
I’ve learned not to waste time. I do Kegel exercises while waiting in my car at a stoplight to strengthen the pelvic floor muscles so I don’t pee when I cough or sneeze or have a laughing fit. Sometimes, I even wink at the male driver in the next lane as I squeeze the perineum, the way I once heard sex therapist Dr. Ruth describe.
After being told at age 19 that I’d attain “enlightenment” after practicing meditation for five to seven years, I’ve learned not to wait for the lightning strike of kundalini to snake up my spine and blind me with light that empties my mind. I try to go with the flow and heed the words of the ancient poet Horace “Carpe diem!” –seize the day!
I figure that we’d better enjoy life now, because if you believe in reincarnation, and are lucky enough to come back as the person you wish you were this time around, what will the world look like? What will humans look like? Where will you live? Bio-geological scientists predict that in 600 years, if deforestation continues at its current pace, the planet will be devoid of trees.
I confess. I wait for agents and editors to respond to my query letters. I wait for lab results, lunch dates, and get-togethers with family, just like everyone else. Occasionally, when I’ve had chai tea past noon, I wait to fall asleep. I don’t count sheep. My mind entertains me with memories that appear like ghosts or with interesting characters that plead to appear in stories. Eventually, my breath carries me to dreamland where the concept of waiting doesn’t exist, and where I can connect with universal intelligence that keeps everything in flow.
We wait to find love, and for our babies to be born. We wait for loved ones on their death bed to take a final breath, and hopefully after we emerge from the exhaustion of giving away too much of ourselves, we emerge wiser and riper, and ready to discover our life’s purpose.
I lovingly cared for my husband for ten years, and then for my father and mother. The three of them passed away within one decade. I became a multi-layered sandwich responsible for my husband, my children, and sometimes for my parents. I ignored myself and the inner voice that cried, “Love me, too. Don’t forget about me!” My motto was this too shall pass. I figured I’d have plenty of time later to get back to my own life. So I ignored my creative urge that warned me it would not withstand being buried, that it would take a toll on my health unless I released it.
I danced like a woman obsessed in order to stay off anti-depressants. It helped. A lot. And when, finally, I was able to emerge from caregiving without guilt, knowing that I had done the best I could for my loved ones, my creativity flowed and manifested as a book. I was done waiting. I was ready to re-engage in my life.
It’s easy to get caught up in the waiting game and wonder what is around the corner. Our minds play guessing games and become anxious when we imagine various scenarios about what will happen if we take certain actions.
I want to enjoy the power of now. I don’t want to wait anymore until the mood strikes me to write, or until I can travel to Granada and Seville and feel the rhythm of Flamenco dancers pulse in my veins. I’m checking off the items on my bucket list, while I wait for the sunrise of another beautiful day.
Barbra Cohn writes about health, travel, and anything that piques her interest. She is the author of Calmer Waters: The Caregiver’s Journey Through Alzheimer’s and Dementia, and hundreds of articles for national and regional publications, including AAA’s EnCompass, First for Women, Better Nutrition, and Delicious!. Read blog, thehealthycaregiverblog, here.
Barbra is on the editorial board of Boulder County’s Care Connections, and is president and owner of Cohn Writing Solutions, where she writes copy for cosmetics and nutritional supplement companies. In addition to holding a Master’s degree in professional writing, she has a Certificate in Nutrition from the Bauman College of Nutrition and Culinary Arts.
When she is not writing, Barbra can be found hiking, dancing salsa, tango, swing, contra, or Israeli folkdance, or playing with her adorable grandchildren. Email her at healthwriter1@gmail.com.
