So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing. –T. S. Eliot

I’ve never been good at sitting still. When I was young, I often stood and ate meals on the kitchen counter versus sitting at the dining table because I wanted to get on to the next thing as quickly as possible. You see, I had a million interests, tons of hobbies, a gaggle of friends (is it ok to refer to friends as a “gaggle”?), and well…sitting down to eat simply wasted time. My mom was not amused. I can still hear her voice in my head when I find myself standing and eating at my kitchen counter before rushing off to whatever it is I have scheduled next. (Sorry, mom, this happens more than I want to admit.)

After undergoing my fifth knee surgery on the same knee 2 1/2 weeks ago, I found myself subjected to forced stillness. I couldn’t drive, couldn’t walk more than a few feet, and was supposed to keep my leg elevated as much as possible for the first few days. Less than 24 hours after my surgery, I was already itching to get out and about. The boredom that set in was no joke and I found myself fiending for the company of friends with “tales of the outside world.” It felt that dramatic. But the reality was that my body had undergone something major and required inactivity to heal.

Ironically, earlier this year, I committed to engaging in new spiritual practices such as silence and solitude. I started meditating more, writing and journaling more often, and purposefully spendin nights during the week alone to focus on mindfulness. You would have thought that the surgery recovery would have welcomed the chance to really put those contemplative practices into action, but I found myself wanting to distract myself instead of engaging.

It’s because I was in a season of waiting. Business has been slow so I have been actively networking looking for new clients and projects, and even applying to full-time positions for the first time in seven years. My days have felt idle and somewhat lazy. I was told not to fly anywhere for 4 to 6 weeks while my knee heals for fear of blood clots. I have been waiting for new opportunities, a return to activity, and the funds to be able to plan my next adventure. Everything felt like it was on hold. Life had zero momentum. And I certainly wasn’t living out my word for the year: ONWARD. It was more like JUST HERE.

And just here didn’t feel good. It didn’t even feel like Sabbath. I’m good at Sabbath – that is, enjoying life apart from work – but my form of Sabbath rarely involves placidity. I didn’t like sitting in my own well of discomfort during this season of pause. Practicing presence was hard. Being intentionally stagnant felt like torture. Wasn’t life about going after what you want and making things happen? But in this season, there was no happening to be had.

After a few days of feeling like I was dying on the proverbial vine, I finally acknowledged the worry about finances, the bruised ego, and embarrassment of having to rely on others for everyday needs. And then I gave myself permission to embrace the JUST HERE. To sit in it. To not produce. Not strive. Trust. Nap. Actually, truly rest. Accept the help. Welcome the weakness. And not apologize for it.

Then I started to list all the things that were possible because of JUST HERE. I was able to spend a week in Mammoth spending quality time with friends without having to worry about work deadlines. I got to visit with people who I hadn’t connected with in a long time because our schedules never lined up. I was able to rest, elevate, and ice my knee during the critical first week after surgery, speeding up the recovery process. I experienced the sweet care and love of friends who gave me rides and brought me meals before (and after) I was cleared to drive.

Oh, and I started this blog along with the discipline of writing everyday for at least 30 minutes. The truth is that I had been putting it off for more than a year, and might have continued to do so if I didn’t feel so stir crazy.

Here’s the good stuff: I know that the waiting will eventually end. The work will commence again. The trips will get planned. My knee will heal completely and I will return to my sporty life. And that list I had made…it led me to discover one important truth: Turns out JUST HERE is a necessary prerequisite to ONWARD.