Patience

Continuing on with last week’s theme of letting things be, I thought I’d share with you a bit about patience this week.

Probably one of the greatest gifts that has continued to grow with my mindfulness practice is my patience. I didn’t really ever give it much thought or appreciation until I became a mother. But now I thank my lucky stars for it many times a day.

I’ve been really lucky in my job as a stay at home mom, in that my life doesn’t involve too much of a set timeline; because I can see my patience levels drop and my stress levels increase when things are supposed to happen by a certain time. But even when we’re on a schedule, I’ve been surprised by my own patience at times. The benefits of this practice of patience are pretty sweet.

Like getting to watch my son revel in the thrill of “driving” our car as I sit patiently in the passenger seat awaiting my turn behind the wheel to drive us home from the store. Or the surprise and shared joy when I can sit back long enough to let him finish a tricky Lego set without my intrusion. Or when I’m in the middle of a work email and I stop what I’m doing to listen to my son tell me a story about his Legos. (Can you tell, we are REALLY into Legos these days?!)

But this patience didn’t just come with motherhood. No, it was something I’d been practicing for years before I even dreamed of being a mom. And practicing patience does not mean I’m just a floating angel of serenity all day. Often the still water above belies a swift current or even some deep underwater storms below the surface. My mindfulness practice though, has given me the tools to be with these storms and find a place of calmness and peace within them.

With continued mindfulness practice and loving attention, I’ve been able to cultivate the patience to live (mostly!) in harmony with my four year old. And you can too! (Well, maybe not with a toddler, but you know, you can develop more patience too.) :)

Inherent in mindfulness practice is some kind of patience. It’s not that we’re sitting there waiting for something to happen, but with each moment of awareness we’re strengthening our ability to feel easeful with whatever is happening — a calm heart amidst the storm. Trusting in this deep well of calm, safety, and peace within, we can begin to see that we are able to rest in this place as often as we like, whenever and wherever we like.

So when we come to something that we want to get over with, or that requires us to wait, it’s much easier to do so because the discomfort of waiting is something we’re now equipped to notice and experience fully, without pushing it away. Furthermore, a major learning of our practice comes in accepting, surrendering to, and allowing the unknown.

What more is impatience but a wish to leave the discomfort of the uncertain, unfinished, and unknown to speed ahead to an imaginary “better” future?

The irony of this often unconscious wish to speed ahead is that the future will always be uncertain and unknowable. That is its nature by definition. With the present moment as our only truth, zooming into the future is nothing more than a fantasy.

Patience grows as we become comfortable here, in this moment.

Our son has a book called “Waiting Is Not Easy,” and for him (and most of us) the title rings true. But what our practice can show us is that we don’t need to wait to enjoy this moment, to savor this experience. Patience blooms out of an ability to feel at ease with whatever is here. Everything is always changing, nothing is certain, and our desire to get from Point A to Point B as quickly as possible can prevent us from fully experiencing the journey there.

Living life at a four year old’s pace can be pretty rewarding if you have the patience for it. Give it a try!