TRUTH • PATIENCE • COURAGE

As I began emerging from what I have called my in-between time, the next baby steps started revealing themselves.

I call it the in-between because I felt different.

More peaceful.

More settled.

Yet I wasn’t completely resting in that stillness, because everyday life suddenly seemed determined to throw a few curveballs my way—each one offering an opportunity to pull me back into frustration and imbalance.

As I write that, I sense someone chuckling in Spirit.

Because I just realized…

Perhaps this is the lesson.

Patience.

I have never considered myself particularly patient.

I can be patient with other people.

I can wait for someone else.

But waiting for resonance?

Waiting for revelation?

Waiting when I don’t know what comes next?

That is another matter entirely.

I have always been a seeker.

And just as I wrote those words, two owls began hooting outside.

I smiled.

It felt like another little reminder:

Stop.

Listen.

Allow.

Perhaps patience isn’t simply waiting.

Perhaps it is learning not to fill the silence before clarity has had time to arrive.

My inner protector has always wanted answers.

There is an old saying that nature abhors a vacuum.

But perhaps, in my life, it has often been my own mind that couldn’t tolerate one.

An empty space is the unknown.

And the protector doesn’t particularly like the unknown.

It wants to know what is coming.

It wants possibilities.

Plans.

Contingencies.

Something—anything—it can use to make us feel safe.

So I sought answers.

Sometimes before the answers were ready.

I remembered something that happened many years ago when I moved to North Carolina to establish a spiritual center with another woman.

We had shared a vision while visiting Mt. Shasta, and she had offered to provide the funding.

It seemed right.

So I went.

When a friend from California came to visit, he listened as I explained everything that had happened.

Then he simply said,

“What are you doing here?”

I explained the vision.

The center.

The plan.

He listened.

Then he said,

“The timing isn’t right. You moved too fast.”

He was right.

Delays began appearing.

Financial difficulties arose.

And during that same visit, another direction began revealing itself.

West.

Eventually, my path brought me back to California.

When I was younger, I had tremendous courage—and perhaps a fair amount of youthful bravado.

An idea would arrive and I would grab hold of it.

Let’s go!

As I have grown older, I have become more cautious.

I contemplate.

I consider possibilities.

I weigh what could go right…

and what could go wrong.

For a long time I told myself this was wisdom.

Some of it undoubtedly is.

But as I looked deeper, I discovered something else beneath it.

Doubt.

Somewhere along the way, I had become afraid of getting it wrong.

Perhaps my experience in North Carolina affected me more deeply than I realized.

Perhaps some part of me decided:

Next time, be absolutely certain.

And suddenly I understood why Patience was appearing beside Courage.

Patience wasn’t asking me to become passive.

It wasn’t saying:

Don’t move.

It was saying:

Wait until you can see.

Step into the stillness.

Allow the doubts to surface.

Don’t rush to fill the unknown with rational possibilities simply because uncertainty feels uncomfortable.

Wait for clarity.

Wait for resonance.

Allow timing to reveal itself.

And then…

move.

That is where Courage enters.

Not the courage of my youth that sometimes leapt before looking.

A quieter courage.

A courage that waits…

listens…

recognizes…

and then takes the step.

And somewhere between Patience and Courage, I discovered the third word.

Truth.

But what is truth?

This morning I was reminded of the old parable of the blind men and the elephant.

Each man touches a different part.

One touches the trunk and describes something like a great snake.

Another touches a leg and says the elephant resembles a tree.

Another experiences something entirely different.

Each believes he knows the truth.

And each does know a truth.

But only a portion of it.

Conflict begins when one fragment of truth is mistaken for the whole.

That made me wonder how often I do the same thing.

Something happens.

I understand one piece.

Then my rational mind quickly fills in everything I cannot yet see using past experiences, beliefs, expectations, and assumptions.

Suddenly I have a complete story.

Except…

perhaps I don’t.

Perhaps I have touched only the trunk.

Or the leg.

Perhaps higher truth requires something more.

Sometimes another perspective.

Sometimes conversation.

Sometimes another piece of information.

And sometimes…

Patience.

The willingness to remain with I don’t know yet long enough for the larger picture to reveal itself.

That brought me back once again to North Carolina.

My desire to establish that center was genuine.

The vision was genuine.

My enthusiasm was genuine.

The friendships and sense of belonging I felt there were genuine.

Those were all pieces of truth.

But they weren’t yet the whole elephant.

Something was missing.

Timing.

Eventually, my life unfolded in a different direction, and I came to understand California as where my path was leading.

Perhaps I haven’t lost the courage I had when I was younger.

Perhaps it has simply matured.

The courage is still there.

What I am learning now is how to let it walk beside Patience.

And together they wait for Truth.

Then another small mirror appeared.

Yesterday I watched a video about a young man who had moved from the Midwest to California to pursue his dream.

He mentioned that a friend from the Midwest was coming to visit, so he rearranged his work schedule, planned sightseeing, and made certain his home was clean and welcoming.

Something about that stayed with me.

I remembered growing up in the Midwest.

When someone came to visit, you made everything orderly.

You offered food.

You made them comfortable.

You did everything possible to make them feel welcome.

I still do those things.

But this morning another question appeared.

Do I do them simply because I love being hospitable?

Or is there also a little voice somewhere inside saying:

Make sure everything looks good so no one judges you.

I laughed.

Apparently we were digging deeper again.

What is my truth?

Perhaps both things can be true.

I genuinely love welcoming people.

And perhaps some old conditioning still occasionally wants the house to look impeccable rather than comfortably lived in.

I don’t have to judge either one.

I simply need to see it.

And perhaps that is what this new stage of embodiment is becoming for me.

Not another enormous initiation.

Not another dramatic revelation.

Baby steps.

Noticing.

Waiting.

Listening.

Allowing the pieces to arrive without immediately constructing a story to fill the spaces between them.

Patience creates the space.

Truth reveals what is there.

Courage takes the step when the time arrives.

And perhaps Divine Timing is not something I need to chase at all.

Perhaps my task is simply to become quiet enough to recognize it when it knocks…

and ready enough to open the door like a hostess welcoming an expected guest.