A Whisper of Wholeness
Tightly holding onto an old way of thinking is precisely what prevents one from a new way of seeing.
Anticipation is one of the most alive experiences we can feel. It doesn't know what's coming — and that not-knowing is the gift within the gift. There's a fullness in waiting when your hands are open. A quiet energy. A leaning-forward that has nothing to prove and everything to receive. But somewhere along the way — so subtly we don't notice — the anticipation begins to harden. "I wonder what will come" becomes "I know what should come." The open hands begin to close. Not into fists exactly, but into something with a shape — a picture of what the gift should look like. When it should arrive. How it should feel. And the moment we hold that picture, we've stopped receiving the gift. We've started grading it.
That's the drift. Not from something good to something bad. Yet from something alive to something measured. Expectation isn't evil. It's just anticipation with the wonder removed. The box without the gift inside. I've watched it happen in my own life more times than I'd like to admit. The slow slide from hope to assumption — from gratitude to audit. A relationship that once filled me with wonder quietly became something I monitored for performance. A calling that once stirred awe slowly became a career I managed for outcomes. The gift was still there. But I had emptied the soul of it by deciding in advance what I expected from it. Maybe the most generous thing I can do — for the gift and for myself — is to keep my hands open long enough to simply be surprised by what arrives.
For further reflection
Where in my life has my anticipation quietly hardened into expectation — and what gift might I be missing because I've already decided what it should look like?