We spend a lot of time thinking about what we want to change. Or at least we say we do. Because sometimes we don’t let ourselves get very far with the question: What do I actually want?
Maybe part of us understands that wanting something different means being willing to let something become different. If the thing we’ve asked for actually arrives, we may be asked to change along with it.
Staying where we are can feel a lot safer.
We can imagine a different job, relationship, creative life, business, home, or future without having to disrupt anything in the present. It’s all hypothetical.
Until it isn’t.
Every once in a while, something begins to move.
Not enough that you know what’s going to happen. Just enough that you realize something could happen.
That’s an interesting place to stand.
Suddenly, the future has possibilities it didn’t have yesterday. Your mind starts racing ahead, trying to figure out what they might mean. How would this work? What would have to change? What happens if it works out? What happens if it doesn’t?
Meanwhile, nothing has actually changed yet.
Welcome to the unstable middle.
The Unstable Middle
The unstable middle shows up everywhere.
A child enters a new stage. A relationship shifts. A creative project starts gaining momentum. An opportunity appears. A business grows. A door opens. Something ends before the next thing has quite begun.
You’re no longer standing exactly where you were, but you don’t know where you’re going to land.
And that can create a particular kind of energy.
Eagerness. Anxiety. Impatience.
It’s the energy that has you mentally pacing back and forth, tapping your fingers on the table, checking for answers that aren’t there yet. Your body is here, but your mind is six months ahead, reorganizing a life that doesn’t exist.
For those of us who are planners, preparation can feel like the obvious solution.
Sometimes it is.
There are things we can anticipate and prepare for. But eventually preparation can cross a line and become an attempt to control uncertainty.
We start solving imaginary problems.
We rearrange schedules that don’t need rearranging. Have conversations in our heads that don’t need to happen. Prepare ourselves for sacrifices nobody has asked us to make. We imagine what we’ll do when one outcome happens and what we’ll do if another one does.
We’re trying to make the future stable enough that we can relax in the present.
But there is still a life happening right here.
Don’t Get Ahead of the Movement
This is something martial arts has taught me over and over again.
When something is coming toward you, the answer isn’t necessarily to move faster.
If you get ahead of the movement, your timing gets thrown off. You may telegraph what you’re about to do. You commit your weight before you know where it needs to go. You take yourself off balance.
And once you’ve lost your center, everything becomes harder.
The same thing happens in ordinary life.
When our attention gets too far ahead of where we actually are, we become less responsive to what’s happening now. We’re distracted. We rush. We miss things. We make strange little mistakes. Sometimes we literally bump into things, drop something, trip, or otherwise discover that our body isn’t where our mind thought it was. We’re out of alignment.
Flow asks something different of us.
It asks us to keep our feet underneath us. Not because what is happening isn’t significant. Sometimes what is moving in front of us really could change our lives.
Being grounded doesn’t require pretending otherwise. Non-attachment isn’t indifference. You can want something deeply without throwing your entire weight toward it.
You can acknowledge the magnitude of what could happen without giving a possible future your center of gravity.
Change Can Change Us Before It Happens
There’s another strange thing about the unstable middle.
Sometimes a possibility changes us before we know whether it will become a reality.
An opportunity can make us see ourselves differently. A new possibility can expand the scale at which we’ve been imagining our lives. A relationship can reveal something we didn’t know we wanted. Watching a child step into a new stage can force us to reconsider our own role.
Something doesn’t necessarily have to become ours to affect us. Maybe we don’t have to possess an opportunity in order to allow it to expand us.
That changes our relationship with the outcome.
Instead of gripping the future and insisting that it become the version we’ve imagined, we can pay attention to what the experience is already showing us.
What am I learning?
What is this revealing?
What do I want that I wasn’t allowing myself to want before?
What am I afraid might change?
What am I discovering I’m capable of?
Those answers belong to us regardless of what happens next.
The Unstable Middle Is Life
Maybe the real problem is our assumption that eventually everything will settle down. We’ll get through this transition, make the decision, get the answer, finish the project, get the kids through this stage, figure out the job, solve the problem. Then we’ll be able to relax.
Except another thing will move.
Parenting makes this particularly obvious. Just when you understand one stage, the child changes. Creative work changes. Careers change. Relationships change. Bodies change. Circumstances change. Life keeps moving.
We spend a lot of energy trying to create enough external stability to finally feel stable ourselves. But the practice is learning how to find our center while things are moving.
For me, that practice comes back to four things: Accept. Breathe. Flow. Don’t be concerned with the outcome.
Accept what is actually happening rather than what you imagine might happen. Breathe long enough to bring yourself back into your body and into the present. Flow with the movement that is actually occurring rather than committing yourself to the movement you predicted.
And don’t be concerned with the outcome. Not because the outcome doesn’t matter, or that you shouldn’t care, but because this moment matters too. You can care deeply about what might happen without abandoning the life you’re living while you wait to find out.
The ground shifting isn’t necessarily a signal to reorganize your life. Sometimes it’s simply a signal to find your footing.
Be where you are, not where you think you should be.
Love it! I am in the midst of watching new ideas open like little buds blossoming. All in my mind right now but sending out messages that something wonderful just might happen. But enjoying today as the misty images get clearer.