Cultivating Mindfulness In An Impatient World

"Patience is not simply the ability to wait--it is how we behave while waiting."

- Joyce Meyer

Time. It's something I think about a lot these days. During the pandemic, time appeared to warp and twist our former lives. Days seem to blur into months and now years. "Time flies," we say. We grow older, but somehow, we can't seem to believe how it happened. Does time fly? Of course, it doesn't. Time is only, in concept, a construct. It is something we live our lives by, but we rarely examine our relationship to it.

As humans, we track our minutes, hours, days, and years to keep us moving. Our clock counts the hours we slept... or didn't. We count the minutes until dinner arrives or the workday ends. We note the length of our jobs and relationships over the years. 
Sometimes, we race against time. Sometimes, when we're enjoying ourselves, time seems to pass faster.  
You might have three more hours left during your weekend. 
You might have two years until you finish school.
You might have five weeks until your next day off. 

Often, we don't know what time will bring. For better or worse, time follows our days, organizes our appointments, and chains us to our routines. We become impatient for time to pass when we're uncomfortable. It's human to want to rush past the annoyances and difficulties. When surrounded by so much chaos, uncertainty, and grief, time can, if we let it, start to feel even more precious. Our anxieties tell us that we don't want to waste our time. 

How long will this take? 

Many clients begin therapy by asking how long it will take to feel better. Like much of society, they want relief, results, and outcomes. Sometimes, we need quick results and short-term relief, like when we take an aspirin to help us get through a pounding headache before an important meeting. But if we lean on short-term relief and fixes for the bulk of our lives, we miss out on deeper understandings. Very often, the place in between here (the pain) and there (the healing) is where we foster resilience, hope, and vital learning. We often miss it because we're so focused on the result. Where are you impatient, eager to get beyond this moment? 

It could be the frustrating moments, such as when you're stuck in traffic or waiting in line. It may manifest itself towards your partner, kids, or parents. Sometimes, we lack patience with ourselves, wishing we were somehow better than we are. 

Google tells us that patience accepts or tolerates delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset.  Perhaps you noticed a lack of patience after the fourth month of quarantine. Maybe you lose your patience after waiting two hours on hold with customer service. We are on the spectrum of our patience, and we all have our limits. 

Remember how five years ago, the COVID-19 pandemic was a profound teacher, reminding us of the value of patience in managing uncertainty. Our old ways of life drastically changed without promises of a return. If we are conscious, we have learned to manage our frustration and tolerance of the unknown, finding solace in the patience we have cultivated. 

Patience and its inverse are sometimes simple, yet often profoundly complex. It's not only our ability to wait alone that makes us patient, but also how we wait: the tone and the quality of our waiting. 

When we're unhappy, we can become overly focused on finding relief that we often forget to discover meaning along the way. 

How we do anything affects the quality of our experience of it—waiting included. Can we find the meaning and the value in the process of waiting?  In our anticipation, finding meaning in the process along the way, we can feel more engaged and purposeful.

Sometimes, we're awaiting the end of something frustrating, painful, or annoying. Many clients want so badly to get out of treatment that they aren't yet curious about their inner struggles. So focused on getting out of it, we never learn from it. 

Our fast-paced culture creates little room for understanding our impulses and reactions. It isn't comforting to slow down and ask more profound questions about ourselves. There's so much else we could be doing. 

We don't always have the power to make life happen faster or according to our timeline. When we are constantly future-focused, we can overlook the importance of considering the quality of our waiting. What do we do, and how do we feel and behave while we're on our way?   

Recently, a client mused about his dissatisfaction with his efforts. He was meditating, exercising, and reflecting but still struggling with sleep, anxiety, and low self-esteem. He wanted the pressure in his chest to go away; it made him feel insecure. He had little curiosity about his experiences or feelings- he just wanted to feel better. Naturally, we all want to feel better when we're hurting. Yet, our preoccupation with relief often indicates a sense of shame about our feelings or our capacity to tolerate them.  We need to feel a sense of safety in those spaces to become curious. 

A Shift Towards Process - Curiosity of the Now

My work with clients is rooted in fostering a sense of curiosity about themselves. To better understand what's going on inside, we often have to slow down. The stigma, fear, and shame associated with introspection usually overshadow this vital interest in self-understanding. However, when we cultivate curiosity, we unlock doors to personal growth and self-discovery. An emphasis on curiosity can inspire and motivate us to embark on a journey of self-discovery. 

Whether in something concrete like the bus's arrival or the love of our lives, there is an essential component to notice along the way. We miss so much if the outcomes become the sole focus. In our results-driven culture, we can forget the unfolding of the journey before us. There is something in the process, in the way we behave along the way.  

You don't need to love the experience of waiting, but you could find something to appreciate about it.  What would it be like if you looked up, felt your breath, or engaged with the strangers around you the next time you were waiting in line? How might you appreciate the process of building your muscles and not just the eventual shape you hope to achieve? What might you enjoy about your last days this season before it ends? Not always future-focused, what's good and worth appreciating here and now? Might we be missing something vital if we are primarily focused on the future and a hopeful outcome? 

Alan Watts, a British philosopher, spoke of life being like music: the song as a journey. If life is like a song, you don't dance to a song or listen to music, waiting for the end. When we listen to music, we enjoy it as it goes. Life is while we're living now. That includes waiting to get wherever we're going. The sweetest parts of life are in the process, the journey along the way.

Choosing to focus on the process with curiosity and patience might make the waiting more exciting. It may also provide some relief. 

"And the thing was to get to that end, success or whatever it is, maybe heaven after you're dead. But we missed the point the whole way along. It was a musical thing, and you were supposed to sing or to dance while the music was being played." - Alan Watts.