On Patience

There will be very few occasions in life so perfectly timed that there will be no waiting involved.  Catching a train, a play beginning, finding a soul mate — these are all events which often require some patience. 

“Patience is a virtue.”

Cliché as it may be, the above phrase has occupied a rather large piece of my consciousness for the past few months.  An enormous compliment came from my course advisor one morning last semester when I mentioned my preoccupation with patience, and she told me that it didn’t seem like I much needed the reminder.  

But I have needed the reminder, recently more than usual.  Studying abroad, being physically so far away from so much of what I love, was a trial.  It bred a nasty sort of insecurity inside my mind, one that was unreasonable, nonsensical, unkind.  I’d find myself chanting silently that patience is a virtue, patience, virtue, patience, virtue.  Be patient with others, and if that task feels insurmountable, begin with yourself.  Don’t let that be an insurmountable task.

Upon returning home, I think that I was under the impression that this feeling -- this insecurity, this impatience -- would be something from my past.  I imagined that simply going back to where I used to be would be enough to make everything right again.  However, I’ve found myself still scrambling for the strength to avoid irritation, to breathe deeply and let go of the things I cannot change.

Sometimes things do not go the way that you intend them to.  You catch a cold while on vacation, the boy doesn’t like you back, you fall out with someone you love dearly.  I wanted to buy macaroons while I was in London.  I didn’t.  I wanted to find a nice bakery where I could have some tea and a few delicate cookies.  That wasn’t how it happened.  I wanted to draw more, read more.  I spent more days that I had imagined I would within a short distance of my hotel room, drinking coffee in a chain shop.  

I want to have more time to myself this semester.  I want for the school day to start at 9 instead of 7:15.  I would love to read carefully and annotate every page of reading that I have to complete.  There isn’t always time.  I wish that every day started with joy and excitement.  Some days start slower.

Learning to live inside of these inconveniences, taking them in and breathing them out, is its own kind of patience.  I’ve been trying to learn to take my time with myself and others, allowing frustrations and disappointments to occupy a smaller and smaller space inside of me.  It’s not easy, but worthwhile tasks rarely are.  

I’m writing this, and putting it here, because I’ve spoken to a lot of people recently about how hard it can be to let go, about the struggle that patience can be.  If you’re in this boat, this sometimes self-sabotaging boat, this sometimes hard to stay afloat boat, you’re not alone.  

Lots of love, friends.  Thanks for reading.