I used to hurry everywhere, and leaped over the running creeks.
There wasn’t time enough for all the wonderful things I could think of to do in a single day.
Patience comes to the bones
before it takes roots in the heart as another good idea.
I say this as I stand in the woods and study the patterns of the moon shadows,
or stroll down into the waters that now, late summer, have also caught the fever,
and hardly move from one eternity to another.
Mary Oliver, Patience
Some of us can accept others right where they are a lot more easily than we can accept ourselves. We feel that compassion is reserved for someone else, and it never occurs to us to feel it for ourselves. My experience is, that by practicing without “shoulds”, we gradually discover our wakefulness and our confidence. Gradually, without any agenda except to be honest and kind, we assume responsibility for being here in this unpredictable world, in this unique moment, in this precious human body.
Pema Chodron, When Things Fall Apart
The ancient rhythms of the earth have insinuated themselves into the rhythms of the human heart. The earth is not outside us; it is within: the clay from where the tree of the body grows. When we emerge from our offices, rooms and houses, we enter our natural element. We are children of the earth: people to whom the outdoors is home. Nothing can separate us from the vigor and vibrancy of this inheritance. In contract to our frenetic, saturated lives, the earth offers a calming stillness. Movement and growth in nature takes its time. The patience of nature enjoys the ease of trust and hope. There is something in our clay nature that needs to continually experience this ancient, outer ease of the world. It helps us remember who we are and why we are here.
John O’Donohue
Sometimes we have to allow space for things to become clear, or trust others even if we are not sure what is happening. Where do you have to exercise patience at this moment?
Consider the farmers who eagerly look for the rains in the fall and in the spring.
They patiently wait for the precious harvest to ripen.
You, too, must be patient
James 5:7f
Meditation practice is about dropping into a non-doing mode, where we do not have to be someone or achieve something. In this way it echoes the sense of rest found in close relationships – a place we can simply be ourselves, where we can be weak, without having to prove our worth or impress anyone:
Power and cleverness call forth admiration but also a certain separation, a sense of distance; we are reminded of who we are not, of what we cannot do. On the other hand, sharing weaknesses and needs calls us together into “oneness”. We welcome those who love us into our heart. In this communion, we discover the deepest part of our being: the need to be loved and to have someone who trusts and appreciates us and who cares least of all about our capacity to work or to be clever and interesting. When we discover we are loved in this way, the masks or barriers behind which we hide are dropped; new life flows. We no longer have to prove our worth; we are free to be ourselves. We find a new wholeness, a new inner unity.
Jean Vanier
Yesterday’s equinox saw a shift in the balance of light and darkness in each day. We too can find light and darkness, strength and weakness, within us. We like strength, but weakness often frightens us and our instinct is to run away. What if we could stop struggling with those parts of our lives and look at them, without seeing them as the enemy? To grow emotionally and psychologically, we first need to acknowledge our personal vulnerability.
I gratefully acknowledge how darkness has become less of an enemy for me and more of a place of silent nurturance, where the slow, steady gestation needed for my soul’s growth can occur. Not only is light a welcomed part of my life, but I am also developing a greater understanding of how much I need to befriend my inner darkness.
Joyce Rupp, Little pieces of light
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