Ever have one... an invisible year?

You know, a series of weeks or months that seem to hold you to one spot, no matter how much you jump up and down on them? It can give you the blues; especially during winter when the sun is less available for instant cheer. We know very well that we didn't fritter our time away. We know we used it to dream and strategize, to take courses and to plan some more. As a result of our endeavors we now find that we have created things we never dreamed of only a year ago, and realize that we somehow became adept at skills we had -until quite recently- turned our little noses up at.

...And yet, it seems that our days activities remain pretty much the same, they haven't really changed but a hair. The dream-schedule we nurtured daily in accordance with the best-selling rules of "The Secret" still only lives mostly in our calendar. It suddenly seems to us that we are engaged in essentially the same activities we'd been doing all along, and the wind suddenly dies away from our rose-coloured sails. We feel aware that we're still trying to figure out what our next move should be, and vehemently repeating to ourselves that the endless trial-and-error phase is as essential (to our road to success) as it is apparently immortal.

We managed to stay terribly busy chipping away at our personal Mount Rushmore's. And when we aren't chipping away at it we are standing there in shock by its sheer magnitude. At times we appear to be carving out our own mark into a granite mountain using but a small chisel and some polishing paper. We simply cannot wait to see it finished, can we? Spend precious energy resources bracing ourselves from the noise and dust of our own compulsive (oh, I mean disciplined) activities, we refuse to remember where we actually began. It seems far too soon in our journey for a congratulatory pause so push on and hope it makes us brave.

Even though many of us started out with a thought that sounded something like, "You've got to be kidding me! There's no way I'm climbing that thing. I don't even like heights. Forget about it!" We forgot about this because we have become so caught up in our dream that seems of little consequence now.

Then one pivotal day an Epiphany (accompanied by its own coir, naturally) broke its long silence and clearly said, "Actually, you do want to climb a mountain, and here it is!" Our former way of thinking seems so incidental now compared to all that we think we're in for now that the mountain has revealed itself. Any kudos-recess seems premature at this point, particularly when we surround ourselves with successful mentors and teachers. Seems silly though doesn't it?

The first thing any mentor worth their salt would say is, "Destination is where ever you are. Everywhere else is really no-where else." So, if we want to affect some outcome (or destination) that is intended to take us away from where we are right now, we can still only do it from here, AKA... where we are right now. Plan all we want, a plan is still like Government intelligence; subject to change and pending further information. The only difference is that we are a little bit older. Scary isn't it to think of how much of our lives we spend just planning things we rarely do the way we had planned them, and that is if we do them at all. I wonder what that time looks like in terms of years.

These are what I call invisible years. They seem to vaporize into thin air and into a non-refundable past-tense. We can hope it is true that any changes we have endured in such a year was in fact internal; educational, broadening of our mind and perhaps even wisdom-making, hum?

So what's my point? ...Just these few:
1. Invisible years are never wasted. They grow us vertically (deeply).
2. Try not to plan, and re-plan too many times before you just jump in and do.
3. Remember that you've actually already arrived somewhere, so what you do from here is entirely about what you can do from here.
4. Embrace 'meaning'. Look inside and find the truth introspectively.
5. Invisible years are the wisdom-makers. Find the pearl in them that others would not see and assess its true value to you.

When tea is carefully brewed we say that it is ready and perfect to drink. And yet what has changed? It is still only leaves and water.

As we run through Life, it has a way of 'steeping' us, just like a unique and mysterious tea steeps in hot water. We are released from the rigidity of youth and become deeper, richer, more filled with a sort of knowing that we could only intellectualize about in before, yet we still can't quite put our finger on what that is, even when we are old. We grow in both breadth and in depth. The first is recognizable to others by the distance we cover within a certain speed, while the second happens when we appear to be standing still. Depth happens even when the stillness is against our compulsive-achiever's will. All we need do is look for it.