For what, I cannot say. But I feel poised, balanced, suspended between what has passed and what will occur. To a certain extent, we all are, aren't we? Every second of the day we live in a moment until the moment is no longer and we are in the next one. But sometimes, rarely, but sometime we can sense that exquisite tiny balance. Sometimes we become aware of how precariously we are perched in the present, not quite out of the past, not quite into the future.

I noticed it this morning as I was waiting for my train. It was 5:25 a.m. To my left, a short walk away, is the Long Island Sound and a charming beach. The sun was rising from that direction. It was painting the sky in bands of pink and orange and purple, all clearly delineated as if G-d had finally learned how to color within the lines, thank goodness. Above the colors, it was a very sweet baby blue. To my right, it was still night, complete with moon and stars and mostly black sky. And there I was in the middle, suspended between day and night, between yesterday's darkness and today's light. It was as if time had stopped for a moment, leaving me there to appreciate the balance as the clock ticked over for another day.

Perhaps I feel it because spring has, technically, arrived, although you wouldn't know it based on the serious cold snap we are trapped in. The cold weather actually makes you feel it better, the sense that you are suspended between time. You know spring is coming, because little green things are beginning to poke their heads through the earth, because I no longer travel to and from work entirely in darkness, because you can just feel it. But it is February cold, still, like winter hasn't quite finished with us. We are poised to shed our heavy coats and embrace the weak spring sun but it is not quite ready for us. We are expectant but still anticipatory.

Maybe it is because we are countdown mode for the arrival of our new child. Induction will be, as I mentioned before, on April 21, if he or she does not decide to poke his or her head out earlier. We are both ready (happy for the pregnancy to finish) and utterly unprepared for the birth.

Either way, I feel it -- hung up between possibilities. It can be exciting, sometimes. Like while I wait for a friend to provide introductions so I can continue to explore career change options (or futures, either instrument, really). The possibility is tantalizing, the reality of the perceived immediate professional future significantly less so.

I'm not sure where I am going with this entry but that's ok. I'm not sure what's going to happen when this pause between moments ends and I am launched, however unwillingly, into the future. Care to come along for the ride?

Posted by: Random Penseur at 11:42 AM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
Post contains 497 words, total size 3 kb.

1 I'm there with ya. I have these points in my life where I'm waiting for something, not always sure what, and it feels like I'm suspended in time, nothing is happening but I know something is happening. It drives me nuts because I hate waiting for things, I would rather get the good/bad over with and then get on with things.

Posted by: Oorgo at March 21, 2006 02:59 PM (lM0qs)

2 always happy to come along on your little rides, RP! these little poetic musings are what keep me coming back to your site! good luck with everything.

Posted by: grammarqueen at March 21, 2006 04:31 PM (glf8i)

3 Always our pleasure to ride shotgun with you, RP.

Posted by: Wicked H at March 21, 2006 04:58 PM (BQhBn)

4 As long as I've got control of the stereo, we're good to go. K.

Posted by: Kathy at March 21, 2006 09:07 PM (zgB3S)

5 Aah. It's been awhile since I was out early enough to see a sunrise. Sweet. Thanks for the memory.

Posted by: Tuning Spork at March 22, 2006 10:38 PM (i0pwT)

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