I realized this morning I have quite a bit to learn about patience.
I rose and dressed in an uneasy anticipation of a bike ride. I stood for what seemed like several minutes and began to undress. I thought about the beautiful weather awaiting me. I also contemplated the thoughts coursing through my head. When I do not empty my head, my anxiety rises steadily. Instead of a ride I decided to walk Jack.
We retrieved his leash and exited the house. He enjoys as do I a leisurely walk around the house unleashed. He travels one way while I travel the other. We meet on the porch in front of the house. Neither of us had any desire to move. I rose briefly and returned to the house retrieving my journal and fountain pen. I returned to “my spot” and listened intently as the birds sang their joyous song welcoming the sunrise which was peeking over my right shoulder. I glanced a few hundred yards to the intersection and watched as the stop light controlled the lives of those travelling to and from their destination. Red. Green. Red. Green. Red. Green. Most travelers moving about mindlessly, paying little if any attention to what I am present for.
Jack rose and moved toward me pushing his nose between my left arm and torso. It was this moment which resonated so deeply with me. I was thankful I had not ridden today. Sure I could have but I would have missed out on this gift because of the lack of time. Despite my spiritual beliefs and meditation practice I remain a relatively impatient individual.
I realized as much as I enjoy my bike, some of the luster has gone. I feel rushed, constantly checking my watch to assess pace and miles ridden. It is difficult to leave this watch at home. Everything is a competition. This is what I miss about my running; the ability to run where I cannot bike. The ability to stop when I want to sit, to write, to contemplate.
My brain understands it’s okay not to put in a certain number of miles at a certain speed; my mind on the other hand argues this point. Anxiety rises and panic sets in. It’s okay if I sit and write. It’s okay if I sit and think. It’s okay.
When did we become so impatient? I recall the relaxed atmosphere of my youth. Dad returned from work. We ate dinner as a family uninterrupted by the false priorities we have created. There are no text messages, no phone calls, no television. Cable television, cell phones and twenty-four hour news stations had yet to be created.
Breathe * Slow down * Breathe