Waiting

I am sitting, waiting for people to show up for my sale. It’s a lot like my life – I keep waiting for my life to begin. I take the absence of people here, people to support my efforts personally. What have I done to them? Why will a sale down the block sell out in a day and I’m in my fifth week of waiting for people to show up with tons for stuff?

Yes, I’m well aware time is a big function in any retail environment. There have been a few lookers, fewer buyers. But right now I want the Universe to show up and be generous with me. I am 52 years old, and I can’t sit and wait much long, or I will turn to dust and all my merchandise will scatter. I have done everything I can to let people know that I’m here, waiting for them to show up. I am a patient man, but right now I want to be busy. I want my stuff to disappear and money to grow in my pockets.

When I was young I waited for my parents to show up for me, but they never really did in a way that meant anything to me. There box of parenting tricks was picked up from a bargain basement somewhere. They thought what I wanted was too expensive when all I wanted was to be accepted being me. My expectation died, and that has helped: they cannot be what I wanted them to be, and my healing was to see them as people, not just my parents.

I am waiting for something to happen that perhaps will never happen, that people will show up for me. I am waiting to be understood, awaiting dialog, awaiting too many good things to happen in too little time. I am waiting for the opportunity to get on with my life, to heal, to move, to go away and never come back. I am waiting for grief to stop. I am waiting when  I think my passive is the new active, and that my active will make the world a better place and not make the usual mess.

I am waiting, for when I am asked the question I already know the answer. I am waiting for the moment when people will see me for the man that I am and not the man they want or wish me to be. I want to shake off the projections, transference  and judgments. I wait for the word “yes” to ring in my ears. Most of all I wait for myself to show up for me, to say “yes”, which is really what all this is about. How can I be celebrated when I keep saying “no”?

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