Tag Archives: patience

This Will Work Out

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The tide has shifted
and I’m ready for change.
Somehow more empowered…
maybe my practices have coalesced?
Or is it the clarity arising
from 100% sobriety
100% of the time?
Is it that the Universe has aligned?
Is it that enough people have prayed for me?
I’ve begun to feel
that life is worth living again…
Is it the blessing of a thunderstorm,
cooling the air
after the sweltering heat of day,*
the look in my children’s eyes
as we pick wineberries
by the side of the road,
the hustle back home
as the storm approached?
Something is different.
There is more hope,
more conviction that somewhere,
somehow,
this will all work out.

*My home’s air-conditioning system has be inoperable since May. If you are from around here, you know how godawfully hot and humid it is in these parts this time of year. If you’re not from around here, trust me when I say that it’s basically inhumane and cruel to not have air conditioning during the summer months…

Waiting For A Promise

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Watching.
Waiting.
Wanting.
Cultivating patience
(not an easy task.)
Holding a vision.
Embracing discipline.
Trusting.
Asking.
Believing.
And then…
tending to the tenderness,
and breathing into
the gaping open places,
the void that was left
the last time around.
Openness and readiness
are a call for fulfillment,
but not its promise.
I am waiting for that promise.

To Patience

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Ah, Patience.
Why do you elude me?
Why do I want you?
Why do I need you?
And why, when I need you the most,
do you desert me?
I think I may need to learn more about you.
I wish you could visit and stay awhile,
but you’re such a flirt—
you’re here one moment, gone the next.
If you can tell me who knows you best,
THAT one I’d like to meet.
Oh, Patience!
If I could master you,
that would be quite the feat!

Healing the Hard Way

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This healing is taking so long.
One year later and I’m still angry,
still depressed, still believing sometimes
that I’d rather be dead than go through this.
At other times I’m grateful to be alive.
It feels like an endless roller coaster ride.
Is this how life is supposed to be?
I want stability. I want peace.
And yet…I want change. I want excitement.
Can there be room for all of these?
I’m tired of asking so many questions,
tired of so much unresolved stuff
whizzing around my head.
But isn’t this how I learn?
I dedicate the merit of my sit
to awakening in awareness of my true self
for the benefit of all beings.
Could it be that every one of these
painful experiences
has something to teach me?
Could it be that every single one
of these heartbreaking moments
is part of the plan?
I’m tired. I want to be healed.
Am I just healing the hard way?
And is there any easier way than this?

To Sprint a Marathon

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When you think you should’ve done better,
be gentle; allow yourself to try again.
Yes, be honest with yourself
and make clear choices about the next time,
but still, be gentle.
Would you admonish a toddler
for not knowing how to sprint a marathon?

One Day At A Time

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I struggle with the parts of myself
that feel unacceptable—
the anger, the sadness,
the fragility, the meanness—
and I realize I just want relief,
I want to feel better.
Then I realize
it doesn’t have to be a struggle.
Could I accept all these different parts?
Could I listen to them,
respect them,
learn from them
what they’re here to teach me?
Again, I need patience.
There’s no going back to the old way,
and I cannot see
more than a few steps ahead…
can I just relax into this process
of making my way
one day at a time?

I Need to Be Patient

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I need to be patient with this process.
I was in the victim story
for a lot longer than the story
of my empowerment.
I believed he shouldn’t have left me
for a lot longer than I realized he should.
My pain is older than the loss of this marriage,
my abandonment, my grief, my heartache
much older than that moment
one year and one month ago
when he dropped the bomb
on the life I thought I knew.
And he is gone.
He has been gone for a while,
and he won’t be coming back.
And so now it is my task
to turn toward myself
and sit with the aching little girl
who clamors for my attention.
She cries out in anger and despair
because I haven’t been there for her,
so taken was I
with the telling of my sad, sad story.
I need to be patient with this process.
Taking ownership of one’s pain
is something that many people
will never realize they can do
let alone go ahead and do
once they realize they can.
I am making this choice.
I feel alone in it.
But that’s just because
no one I know personally
has made such a choice before.
Surely, though,
there are beloveds out there,
kindreds, who just like me
want to evolve until the day they die,
sweethearts who want to own their pain
so that they have the space,
the depth
and the presence
to own their joy.