Holding Pattern

Always journeying and never arriving…

I haven’t been writing for awhile and I have an excuse — I have been looking for the perfect metaphor. In fact I have been telling myself that I need to create/design/write/make-up the perfect metaphor for what seems to emerging as the central theme of my life. And like every perfect excuse, my excuse is helping me procrastinate something I really should be doing.

So here I am taking a deep breath… and loudly admitting that…

looking for the perfect is the perfect excuse cause the perfect after all can never be found.

That confession though hasn’t made me courageous, I am not yet ready to spell it out. I am therefore going to ramble for a bit.

And here’s my latest procrastination strategy I am going to tell you all about the metaphors that have been breaking speed limits in my head —

• the happiness of pursuit

Sounds really cool, no? I really really wish I had come up with that. I didnt. I read it on a plane, its an article about Jack Black. And no the central theme of Jack Black’s life doesn’t mirror the central them of my life.

• the exile

This one is from Moses (defintely my favourite character from the Bible). It’s about the journey towards the promised land, and its always been really easy for me to relate to that.

I could go on. But I am bored, so I am ready to admit that the central theme of my life seems to be a holding pattern. You know the way planes stay in the air waiting for their space on the ground? I have been doing that my entire adult life (21 not 18, cause 21 is the legal age to drink and marry in my country and at 18 you only get to drive).

If the space on the ground are dreams I have dreamt for half my life the holding pattern is me chasing after these dreams. It no longer takes me courage to admit that I am heading full speed towards 30 and haven’t reached even one of my dreams.

It takes me courage to admit that I am perfectly happy running after them. The trying part maybe way more fun than the succeeding part. Looking for the perfect is way more fun than admitting that the perfect doesn’t exist.

Cause arriving means the journey is over!