Imagine sitting by the shore of a pond. There is a gentle breeze, just enough to tickle you, on a balmy, warm day. You can hear birds singing, talking to one another, with spacious periods of serene silence in-between. At the near edge of the pond is a grouping of lily pads, with several pale pink blossoms opening themselves to the sun. Other than the occasional duck that paddles by, the water is smooth as glass, undisturbed and reflective.
I remember back in college my Sociology teacher gave us an interesting assignment. For the next week, he told us, we needed to drive to and from our home by different routes each day. We were then to reflect on how the experience affected us.
Recently, I revisited this practice at my office, when my husband had taken my car for the day. This forced me to walk to lunch, rather than driving to one of my favorite spots.
Walking down a street that I usually drive down was a very different experience. Waiting at the crosswalk, ambling over to the other side of the street, and strolling along the roses growing next to the sidewalk was refreshing. It slowed me down and allowed me to actually see and appreciate what was around me.
It’s part 2 of my Not-So Patient Patient story. Yeah, believe it or not.
Now I’m going on 8 weeks of having some sort of bug – I would seem to be almost over one ailment, and then I’d catch something else.
I believe that I’m just about over this cycle. But the journey has deepened, in unexpected ways.
My new-found patience led me to explore my internal attitudes. What thought was I holding onto in my consciousness? What could be behind this perpetuated illness?
