The Waiting Room

Whenever we're in transition, there is a time between the death and rebirth that may feel like a waiting room. I'm not so sure how others feel about waiting rooms...but as someone who has always been chronically ill and has to be in them often, I am not exactly fond of them. I find them to be awkward and anxiety inducing. There's not much to do, never enough time to read anything in-depth or send a proper email before they call your name and the magazines are always boring. I also feel like for some reason I end up always filling out more and more paperwork, which oddly makes me second guess my answers from the last time I was in, even when they're true facts about my health.

During a recent session with my therapist, I rambled on about how I currently feel like I am in The Waiting Room of My Life. The old parts of me haven't fully sloughed off and I'm not quite my shiny new self, instead somewhere liminal and in-between the old lives and the one coming. She asked me what I didn't like about waiting rooms and I checked off my list of complaints. After agreeing with my points (yeah, they do suck!) she then asked me, "What's great about a waiting room?" 

What's great about a waiting room...?

I had no answer so I stared at her and shrugged, "I've got nothing." She smiled, like she does when she's about to tell me something that might feel like an 'a-ha' moment for me. "Waiting rooms are great because there's nothing to do but be. It's a great place to practice mindfulness." 

"Oh, right." 

Even I want to rush the process of becoming and get to the other side. Not so coincidentally most of my client sessions this past week were people in similar situations. They wanted answers, they wanted to know what action to take so they could start feeling better and feel a sense of moving forward. All the ancestors said, "Just be." That there was no action to take right now, in-regards to their personal death and rebirth cycles, but instead simply be present with where they're at and witness the uncomfortableness. There is a period of waiting, especially after we've done a ton of deep work. We wait, rest, pause and camp out until we know it's truly time to pack up our gear and continue on the path. 

The thing is, there really is so much medicine in the waiting but we aren't told that and we aren't given many tools to navigate it. I'm still navigating my time in The Waiting Room and although I don't have a complete list of tips or guidance to share - I do think that when we make it to the other side of our cycle, we may actually find that we miss that era of waiting, of just being with the self and witnessing whatever shows up in that. 

The world doesn't cheer us on to sit mindfully in the waiting room, it wants us out of there, being productive, with answers and solutions. So, I've decided to glorify the waiting room and stay curious as to what might come in through the door to join me. 

And...keep writing silly poetry while I chill here. 

Love, Hannah 

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“Between The Trees”

woods will be good for
they say

been in a tizzy
searching for 
intention,
of some sort
up and down
the dusty 
side roads

up in the hills
la la la

raven's restless
having no 
scarecrow,

I can volunteer

I say

really don't 
mind, 
these limbs
be feelin
a little
empty

a little
unfulfilling 

so, 
give me some weight
ya know? 

la la la

sunday,
we took the
back way home
humming,

I thought about
all kinds of things
that I don't know

and when we
came over the
hill, I hate to 
say it but ---
the sun was
blinding 

so I guess
these spring rains
seem to be winning
me over, 

anyways.

~ hannah haddadi

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This Substack is a continued love letter to Sacred Death about the complexities of life, death, and the in-between from the viewpoint of a specific Persian Death Witch. Thank you for taking the time to read this love letter with me. ~ Hannah Haddadi {they/them}

Next essay: The Favor. Coming Soon.

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