Patience is not always about waiting. It does not have to mean pausing, turning off, shutting down, giving up. It's about opening, listening, being present, attentive, aware, and at times, although contrary to what it might often imply, it's about taking new action.
On the wall beside my family's dining room table hangs a painting of a woman tending to flowers outside of a house.
My mother had said that what she loves most about it is how despite the disarray around the woman– the house in great need of upkeep, the plant life that is taking over the property– she chooses to devote her energy to the flowers in her back yard. For years this has served as a reminder to make use of what I have for good, and that despite any challenges, obstacles, or chaos I may confront, I should always strive to make something in that world brighter and more beautiful in its midst. Be resourceful; make something, do something, solve something. Say something.
At being asked to 'be patient' we often assume the duty of sitting still, as if we've been put on hold, have been asked to take a seat in a waiting room. As if the problem is out of our hands. At times, this can be true, and we must surrender our grip, ask for help, and hand over our predicament, and await further instruction. Yet in its very definition, to have patience means being able to accept one's circumstances– to admit limitations, and recognize weaknesses– and from that, be open to the possibility of change and solution.
Great or small, personal or involved, patience can be courageous, in finding the humility to ask for help or the persistence to take 'failure' and give it a new name. Patience does not have to be the waiting room; it can be the detour. If the path you have been taking has brought you to a wall, patience is in the ability to accept the wall, but also to draw a new tactic– whether that means finding the tools to scale the wall or choosing another path entirely. To make lemonade out of the lemons. To make a garden out of the tangled foliage.