Wait and see.

That’s what my body told me in 2021. And it’s been reverberating through my bones, cycling through my blood vessels and playing a duet with my heart beat ever since.
Sometimes the rhythm and tone are more perceptive to my inner ear than at other times.
When I’m not oblivious and lost in my monkey mind, I hear it loud and clear.

Wait and see. So pure. So simple. So profound.

In 2021 a new-fangled shot to save the world was on offer.
It took me by surprise. After a few months of the world turning upside down in 2020, things felt like they were normalizing. If I didn’t watch the news – which I hardly did – but just watched reality around me, things were not that bad. Nothing was as dire as all the media hype.

How do you design a new injection in such record time and deem it reliable enough to give to the entire population of Earth? These things take time. Not to mention, how do you do one size fits all in living biology?


That’s literally all that went through my head.

My sun in the gate of logical doubt simply said: “Weird. Very weird.”
I imagined that most people I knew wouldn’t go for it. They would also see how weird it was. How illogical.

My naiveté.

Anyway, when my time was coming to receive this holiest of synthetic products, my body – all the cells of my body – just said very loud and clear in the most unmistakable inner voice:

“That’s not for you.
Wait and see.”

That’s all I needed to know. I just went on waiting until we’d finally be let out of this lockdown thing that kept repeating over and over. Once the older people who wanted the product went and got it, everything would go “back to normal.”

My naiveté.

It began to feel like I was watching some zombie show as the talk and movement everywhere around me was all the same.

“I got the message from the health services that it’s my turn. I’m going next week to get it.”

Even all these very healthy people younger than me were receiving their phone message and promptly lining up.  No matter where I looked, that was the only thing that seemed to be happening.  Life on suspense.  Phone message.  Get in line.  Now go back to living.

One friend called me up: “We’re having dinner at our house. It’s safe. Everyone who’s coming has got it already.”

Hmmmm, well I didn’t. Are you saying I will make it unsafe?

Little by little I watched myself thrown into an unexpected minority of one.
Weeks passed before I found a couple of other people I knew who, like me, didn’t go blindly towards this strange promise of hope from a government which was normally considered corrupt and untrustworthy.

Then came the global ostracization. We were kicked out of most public places.
I watched the day that restaurant owners put up signs saying that without proof of compliance to the promised hope, you weren’t allowed to dine there.
Hyperventilating, I rushed to get out of the street where this was being repeated in every window, and indoors in private I burst into tears. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
It resonated with weird dystopian history and science fiction novels. Were we actually living this in 2021? Is this collectively what we decided to do . . . on a global scale?

I wept and wept. Alone. Very alone.

Then I witnessed the swing dance community which I established in Portugal begin to have events where compliance was requisite for participation.
I felt like I was witnessing the segregation from which jazz was born, being played out again in an insidious way imperceptible to most people

What hit me in the solar plexus like a punch was that I wasn’t welcome. Not only was it the community I had established over a decade ago, but I had spent the last year expending all available energy to try to keep my school going in the face of these lockdowns, so people would have something that kept them joyful and hopeful. And now I wasn’t welcome.

That summer there were no holidays for me.
The year before, when supposedly we were at the height of the crisis, I spent many summer weeks on the coast, renting a room in a shared house with people I didn’t know. No problems. All was well.
This year, when supposedly people had dutifully protected themselves from any danger, I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without being obedient to what I felt was collective mania.

That winter I read death wishes for people like me, coming directly from the White House and a plethora of other public figures working for various governments or misguided individuals on social media.

I witnessed just about everyone around me – all of them part of the in group I didn’t belong to – experiencing a variety of symptoms. Missing work. Closing down businesses for a week because everyone was having symptoms.

I was fine. No symptoms.
Just confusion and deep sadness.
Still ostracized.
Called a risk to society and myself.

Wait and see.
That’s what my inner knowing had said.
Wait and see.

I never expected to see what I saw. What I can’t erase from my mind’s eye. From my experience.

As I write these words I feel the pain. It hasn’t yet left me. It cut. Deeply.
There’s a residual fear in me that these events will repeat themselves – or others like them – or worse.
How will I live through that again?

Wait and see.

So much about the last few years served to separate me. From most people I knew. Even from most of my family. It brought an isolation I had never before experienced.

I’m still processing all that has happened. It hasn’t filtered through my system completely yet. There’s a lot of cleaning that needs to take place before arriving at an inner place of pure objectivity. I need more distance.

However, I do see the opportunity in the isolation. There are valuable lessons contained within solitude. Though this was a “forced” aloneness, the pain of the circumstances brought the possibility of a deep introspection wherein there was an anchoring of myself to myself.

Truth be told, I can recognize the serendipity of the timing. This worldwide phenomenon took place concurrently with the first years of my personal journey in Human Design and differentiating as my true self. It proved to be a great mutative moment for individualizing from the collective and learning to trust my own inner knowing as my only authority.

Wait and see.

That still buzzes under my skin.

Wait and see is the key to life.

There is absolutely nothing to do about anything but wait. Wait until the charged energy passes and then see. Wait until the moment for decision-making comes. Then see.

I don’t know tomorrow. I haven’t a clue what’s on the horizon.

My mind plays all sorts of simulations of events and conversations and how I could handle myself when situations like that arise again.

The truth, however, is that I can only wait. Be present to the now which is this unique moment.

Watch what my body does here and now.

I have a very ripe imagination when it comes to creating possible crises and confrontations which don’t actually exist. My mind spends so much time stuck in the maze of its own creations.

Wait, Abeth.

Wait and see.

That inner voice of knowing from 2021 is the foundational message for me during this time of radical mutation and change going on all over the Earth. Life is nothing like it was pre-2020. It never will be again.

Something huge shifted.
In the collective.
In myself personally.

I have lost trust in most people. In all institutions.
The illusion of a solid foundation under my feet has proven to be just that – an illusion. It is shifting sand.
Each moment requires re-balancing. Fine muscle movement to stay standing.

Not standing on the foundation of anything in the collective.
Simply in my own inner truth.
Grounded only in the inner authority of my body consciousness.

Waiting for life to present itself and then seeing clearly my place in it, moment by moment.

Wait and see.