Patience

I am going to fall in love with patience in the hope that I will acquire some.  I feel like so much right now is demanding patience, and I am afraid I am falling short on delivering it.  Waiting for warmth, waiting for an email, waiting for seeds to sprout, waiting for the sun.  (Cue: The Doors)  I am well aware of the adage Patience is a virtue.  Indeed.  I do not think I have ever been a virtuous woman.

I know I am not alone in thinking that my patience is wearing thin.  This winter has taken a toll on all of us.  I was grousing to my friend Jeff on the phone today, revealing that I had a hard time keeping the depression gods at bay this winter.  He immediately assured me that I was not the only one.  And so I am wondering if those who live further south of here have more patience?  Could it be?  And then, what does that say about geographical choices?  Would I have a better shot at happiness if I relocated further south?  It is something worth considering.

Or not.  Patience is a virtue.  Cultivating virtues is a good thing, right?  Well, if that is the case, goodness is in my DNA!  So I win, right?  Except it doesn't feel that way.  I am angry and ornery and resentful in my impatience.

And then I go out to the greenhouse to check on my seeds and lo and behold, kale and eggplant and chard are emerging.  In the beds already, carrots and beets and snowpeas sprouting up one by one.  And best of all, asparagus!  They poke their little penis heads up in glory!  I am reminded of the number one rule of gardening:  patience.  All good things in due time.  I am humbled by what Nature can teach us . . . if only we will listen.

And then I call up a memory of the past week.  The ocean.  Ever patient.  The tide comes in, the tide goes out.  Patience is part of the rhythm.  I am soothed by the rolling tide and its never-ending patience.  I will try to steal this rhythm and incorporate it into my own life.  Starting now.