Saturday, January 8, 2011

Patience. Waiting.

Patience. Waiting.

I hardly slept last night. A persistent, dry, unproductive cough kept me up. Ciera was kind enough to let me be in the bed next to her as well as give me cough syrup and take care of me. It's really hard to let someone take care of me. But Ciera is good at it.

Woke up and got ready to go to urgent care. We canceled our trip to the Douglas debate tournament; sickness kind of sucks. We spent time in the waiting room of urgent care. I spent time in the exam room. I spent time waiting for Olivia to come out and be picked up. I waited at the Olive Garden. I waited to be served at the Olive Garden. I waited all day.

I think today was a lesson on patience. If it wasn't a lesson it was definitely a rudely slow day. Waiting is difficult. Having patience is more than important, it is key to life. Patience is more than waiting without complaint though. Patience is finding that place that makes you happy and living in it for a moment. It is the moment when life makes you temporarily helpless to action.

But patience is action. Action that requires immense and zero energy. Immense because you have to be still. Stillness is something we don't do often. Zero because it requires no interaction with the world.

Patience means being in the moment when all you want to do is be out of it. And being in the moment is suddenly an opportunity. It is an opportunity to learn, to explore oneself, others, your surroundings. It is a moment to be in the body, to let the momentary sensations that the body is built to feel be felt. It is meditative. It is restorative.

We spend so much of our lives going from one task to another, storing up our free time into the last few hours at the end of the day. Sometimes we forget that waiting—that running around—is most of our life. If we can make that relaxing, restorative, and easy perhaps we can find more time for others.

Patience can be that thing that lets us be happy without anticipation.