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I don’t know whether I’m more impatient with the world and the people in it, or with my own impatience.

When I’m impatient with the world and my people, the antidote, patience, feels like it softens striving. And more: patience with family, friends, the way things are, has a kind of alchemical quality. When it arises – in me or in anyone – everyone seems to relax, and to see and listen and care for each other just a little bit better.

When I’m impatient with myself, the antidote of patience is a relief. I can let go of being frustrated with myself. In fact, I can let go of “selfing” altogether (for a moment) – all that exhausting “I/me/mine.” I can be more present, hear what others are saying, and sometimes, listen to nature. There’s a window of peace. That alone makes the practice of patience worth it, for me.

(For everyone like me, whose impatience has gotten the better of them now & then)

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