I was a last-minute substitution to the 20 x 2 show last night in Chicago, where 20 of us took two minutes to answer the questions: What Are You Waiting For?
It was fun and the other performers were an interesting assortment of talent and ideas. A couple of them were even friends of mine! The front row of the audience was super-enthusiastic, too.
I am very glad to have been included.
I have my notes of where I went wrong (surprising how much peril lurks in 2:15–I ran slightly long), but mostly, I very much enjoyed the chance to do a thing of the sort I have not done since college. Not just to do my own little bit but also to mingle with others doing their bit and spend some time around the Let’s Put on a Show vibe that I enjoyed before law school.
I have a lovely circle of friends and a great social network here but–well, I have more thoughts to tweeze out here about a community of being and supporting versus a community of doing and facilitating. Thoughts I did not realize I was having. I am about to spend some time at the beach with not much to do, perhaps the thoughts will come together.
In the meantime, this is what I said in response to the 20×2 question: “What Are You Waiting For?”:
I am never relaxed. Comfortable? Possibly. Confident? Where appropriate. Calm? As necessary. But I Never Not Ever Relax.
So you might guess that I’m waiting for the blow. Bracing for impact. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. The Catch. The Hitch. The Gotcha.
Except I’m not. I not waiting at all. For anything.
Because there is no need. There’s no next. No resolution. No finale. No Bang. No whisper.
Just each moment. Just each action. Each thought. And then the next. Then the next. The next and the next. And the none at all. So you might say that I’m waiting for nothing.
Which is not to say I’m waiting for death. Just that I’m not—so far as I know—waiting for anything.
Don’t get me wrong. This is not enlightenment. No carpe diem moment of zen. I put plenty of things off. And I have no more patience than your average middle-aged public interest attorney working in an unjust world.
But waiting? For what? For change? For justice? For the world to catch up with itself? I think not. I’ll wait for the elevator. I’ll wait for the toaster. (I’ll wait for the bus) But I’ve learned not to wait for humanity—I’m already anxious enough.
You see, change happens after you work for it your whole life. So you musn’t wait for it. To wait for it is to drive yourself mad. It torments your hope. Betrays your belief and hobbles you.
I don’t wait. And I never relax.
But in this I find belief in the value of each moment which follows each thought without ever actually displaying this Good we’re waiting for.
Just laying it down. In thin imperceptible layers of progress. Each of us. Each moment. One thought at a time.