raw honey is slow to drip. [lesson 002/023.]
[002/023.] raw honey is slow to drip. (all good things take time.)
below are a few compiled notes + a "short story" that i've written over time concerning my impatience. it's been the bullet of many of my relationships and a flaw that i am consistently working on. getting to the root of it all, but here are a few things i took from learning about myself and my impatience.
Impatience was her middle name. where she inherited it, was a mystery. her mother uttered the word like blood for water. whether it was a memo from the gods or a curse she bit down on her last breath, it stuck. her first name got lost in the clean-up of her mother’s memos and pictures.
the girl grew up quiet, but when words left her it was a vomit that erupted in colors. many children around her did not know how to relate to Impatient.
have you ever seen a child walk around with a ticking clock attached to their chest? every tick was a grain, a salt, a seed, a morsel of sand in the hourglass. her blinking raced. her heart tripped to catch up. her thoughts, at times unsure of what to do with themselves, fleed from her and hid in the darkest corners of her mind.
confession: i am extremely impatient and i have trust issues. these are flaws that i am undoing at the seams and finding myself beneath the stitching.
when all of you is racing against you, it’s hard to know who you are. to be still is to shatter inside your skin. your trains of thought crash at every stop. you are trying to grab onto air just to catch a breath. i’ve learned that being impatient with yourself is the quickest way to wish away your life. i’ve rushed into so many things to rush out of them - relationships, school, hobbies, “passions”. do you know how many times i took a passion, colored outside of the lines, and then called it a hobby as an excuse? being patient is an act of self-responsibility. having control over yourself and the thoughts you breed during idle times. the sensory deprivation of not being able to see but still listening to voices of reassurance that it is all working out.
why am i impatient? what am i waiting for? what *is* patience + what does it look like? when i close my eyes and meditate on these things, i see a faint, connecting bridge between the two- patience and trust. the ability to be patient doesn't mean to wait in silence, unbothered. i believe Patience and Trust to be very close cousins. patience is acceptance. accepting the moment, the possibilities, the time, and being at peace with the acceptance.
patience and trust intertwine at the limbs of time: to be patient means you are in a state of trusting the what is. you are at peace with it. when you are patient with someone, you are giving yourself to them in a form of acceptance. it is not submissive but it is trusting them with all the possibilities to come. when you trust the process, there is no room to be impatient because you infinitely accept the situation, the what is. when you are in a trusting state you are patient with whatever is to come. and you understand that patience is a key ingredient to whatever you want to make happen. because raw honey is slow to drip. and all good things take time.