Patience With the Process

 I am not the most patient person when it comes to change taking place.  If I have decided that I am ready for something to take place, or to make a change, then I want it to happen already.  Enough of the waiting around, enough of the contemplation - I have already done enough of that.  I just want change to happen when I am ready for it to happen.  And usually by the time I feel "ready", that means that it is already too late, things should have been in motion ages ago.

The need for patience is something I am starting to grasp and acknowledge, even if I am sometimes unwilling or unable to practice what I preach to myself.  The idea of patience with change really hit home for me this winter.  In my hometown of Toronto, we have experienced a classic Canadian winter for the first time in years.  Bitter cold winds, heavy and inconvenient snowfalls, ice buildup, and a general need for patience where any type of commute or travel is concerned.  It's not that what we are experiencing is unusual or unnatural; it's simply an unwanted disruption to the status quo that we so desperately cling to day in and day out. 

One of the places where I've noticed the biggest impact has been down at the lake.  The shoreline, once gently sloping to the water, has become the site of towering ice ridges that are both incredible to witness and potentially treacherous to navigate.  Fortunately for those of us who are called to the lake, a small inlet of exposed sand has become available on the eastern end of the beach expanse, and has become the one spot where safe entry and exit can be found.

It was a week ago, when I was enjoying a mid-day solo dip in the sunshine, that I was given a reminder about patience.  I was sitting on the sand, enjoying the feel of sunshine on my face, when I heard a sound - the gentle and consistent dripping of water from Mother Nature's ice sculptures.  As I sat surrounded by this soft percussion, I recognized that it was the sound of patience and the gradual end of a hard season.  I contemplated the slow release of winter's grasp on the land and likened it to the many times in our lives when change is taking place, even when the transitions feel minuscule, and changes are imperceptible. 

These are the moments when patience with the process is required.  Patience to continue walking the path we have in front of us, patience to trust ourselves and our intuition to guide us along, patience to hear and not be swayed by the naysayers and those who would try to convince us to change course, and patience to sit in the uncertainty of the moment and allow the shifts to happen. 

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