All Anticipation And No Show

The scene is set like this ... you’re sitting in a theater, staring at the curtain, listening to the instruments being tuned. Every once in a while, underneath the ambient hum of people chatting, you can hear the sound of large scenery pieces being moved backstage. Preparations are being made ... you can feel it.

I’ve been backstage before ... so I have some idea of what’s going on. Actors are warming up their voices ... "mee, may, mah, moe, moo". Dancers, appearing more like pastel-colored trees than people, are draped in a variety of stretching poses, leg over head, arms up and out. The lighting technician, all in midnight black, is running last-minute tests of each dimmer switch. And in the distance, someone is calling "15 minutes to places!" ... "Thank you." Someone else answers. Everyone’s getting ready.

But on this side of the curtain I can’t see any of that. All I can feel is a building sense of tension – a knowing of what’s coming, but not seeing any real evidence of it yet. So far it’s all just remembrance and imagination on my part.

This is what February is like for me. All anticipation and no show.

For a comparatively short month, February always seems to crawl by. I know the days are actually getting longer ... and Spring is just around the corner ... but I think that might be part of the problem.

Everything’s happening behind the scenes. Compared to the flashy festivities of December and the newness of January, February seems to be all about sitting in the theater, waiting for the curtain to go up.

There’s no guarantee of when the show will start, either. At least in December there’s a specific date. The advent calendar is all about counting down the days until the show. But Spring, the show we’re all waiting for in February, happens when it will.

It’s maddening ... and yet it seems a necessary part of the design.

We all need some time to rest and let the potentials bubble up to the surface ... (February as carbonated soda, perhaps) ... The delay is intentional, it’s a period of focus and preparation ... and it can’t be rushed.

Spring comes, every year, in its own time, following its own rhythm - inviting you to join in and match your rhythm to its own. But that’s the extent of the invitation ... you are not invited to control the tempo.

And in a DIY world with an overwhelming number of options, and apparently customizable amounts of control (which frequently results in little more than chaos) ... perhaps there’s some comfort in knowing that Spring comes when it will ... and not a moment before.

It’s a truth you can count on.

So sit back ... and let yourself get ready. Dream your big Spring dreams of newness ... (new job, new loves, new possibilities). Take some time and breathe deeply ... stand up and stretch your legs if you’d like. Read the playbill and chat up the folks around you ... and enjoy this quiet time while you can.

Because when the curtain rises, and Spring does come, we’ll have all we can do to hang on to our hats – it promises to be one hell of a show!

© 2004. All rights reserved. Beth M. Lyons, www.kitchentablecoaching.com

About the author: In addition to wringing ezine essays out of the tiniest of notions, Beth Lyons is the creator of the Million Dollar Life™ Coaching program, and co-founder of Kitchen Table Coaching™: where remarkable women gather to dream out loud. Kitchen Table Coaching offers mastermind coaching groups, individual, customized coaching programs, Barbara Sher Success Teams, Teleclass Workshops, Webinars, and the occasional live workshop. For more information go to www.KitchenTableCoaching.com.

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