It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,
but of course it’s not. It’s Advent,
the Season of Not Yet, a time of waiting.
Some dreams you work for;
for others you can only wait.
We can’t hurry The Time, we can only wait for it.
Sometimes the poet searches for the word;
sometimes they can only wait for it to come.
At the end of the musical piece,
just before the final note— the musicians pause,
for in that little pause the music arrives.
The magician knows, just before removing the veil
to reveal the amazing feat, just then—
… to wait a moment,
for it is in that moment that your heart leaps up.
In Advent we pin our hearts on what we’re waiting for,
and we rest our hearts in the waiting itself,
for in waiting is the meeting of the power of our longing
and our powerlessness, and there,
in the openness, in that magical blank space,
mysteries often happen.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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