Practicing with patience

slow growth

This past week, I wasn’t the most “successful” at practicing my goal of openness to what is here and now.

I wrote about openness - both letting go and letting in - in last week’s post.

slow coffee with flowers on Saturday morning

Last week was a busy one, both professionally and personally.

There were many wonderful moments throughout the week that involved friends and family and celebrations and conversations and books and time outside. And even a sound bath in a lovely park!

And, also, there wasn’t much spaciousness. Lots of activity and driving around and sometimes hurrying to be here or there.

In the in between times and even in the midst of it all, I didn’t always practice openness or patience.

I got angry at reckless drivers. I got annoyed with delays and bureaucratic nonsense at work. I got sad about a couple of rejections on opportunities I had been hopeful for.

I’m not saying that I shouldn’t have felt those emotions. There were reasons to be angry, annoyed, and sad.

It’s just that I held onto to my reactions to those emotions and put more energy into them than was needed or helpful. And putting energy into those reactions meant less energy for other experiences and emotions.

The point of practicing is so that we can be open and patient even in the (sometimes) chaos of daily life.

The practice part is - how much energy do I give to situations and my reactions to those situations? Do I carry a bad commute into my work day? Do I stew over work frustrations when I’m trying to fall asleep at night?

This is where bringing awareness to our emotions, and the reactions to our emotions, can be so helpful. In the moment - can I just be open to that emotion, to that feeling? Can I let myself feel it fully without distracting myself or ruminating or reacting? Can I (should I?) move beyond it or let it go? Can I let go of old patterns about holding onto my reactions? What comfort or excuse or avoidance am I deriving by not letting go? How might being more vulnerable help?

These are tough questions. The answers won’t always be simple. And the answers won’t always be the same, depending on each situation and the depth of each emotion.

I think part of the problem, at least for me, is impatience. I’ve always had to work at patience. Certainly, in raising my own three children and in teaching other people’s children for many years, I’ve practiced patience and cultivated it to a significant degree. More for children than for adults, I admit. It can still be a challenge.

Outside of our personal levels of patience, we live in a society that very much runs on urgency culture. Our modern technology aids and abets the idea of being “on” and available at all times. We’re used to having access - on demand - to information and people and resources and entertainment and products and so on.

The activities and patterns of our daily lives don’t necessarily encourage patience and thoughtfulness, because so much of everything is imbued with a sense of urgency.

Nature, as always, can help us here. In nature, everything unfolds in its own time. We can’t urge nature to hurry up about it. Look at the tomato plant, for example. It grows tiny yellow flowers, the fruit eventually emerges and slowly grows larger, and then it takes its times ripening from green to red. Backyard gardeners wait and watch the entire summer for the reward and the harvest of that plant. We are patient with the tomatoes.

What about patience for ourselves and each other?

If awareness is the key to handling the ups and downs of everyday life with some equanimity, then we’re going to have to slow down. This doesn’t necessarily mean doing less, although it could. This doesn’t necessarily mean taking 30 minutes to complete what could be done in 15 minutes, although it could.

It’s more the attitude of mindfulness we bring to everything we do. An attitude of openness and patience and savoring over an attitude of urgency and productivity and rushing.

So here’s to another week of practicing our presence and our purpose!

May you find glimmers of peace and joy as you practice appreciating the magical and the messy moments. All of it. And everything in between.

With care and gratitude,

Mary