Patience is the tiny, delicious pause between our inhale and exhale.
It is the subtle, short silence between heartbeats. It is spring coming slowly—unfurling her sweet, grassy carpet, one bud at a time, one moment at a time—never any sooner.
It is the sun creeping over the horizon, dripping shades of mandarin and lavender into the pre-dawn sky.
Patience is the kiss that happens in slow motion between two hearts that are so ready—eyes locked, mouths smiling, bodies drawing softly together like magnets, lips finally meeting in a warm, luscious embrace.
Patience is f*cking hard.
It takes a strong heart to know when to wait—to know how to wait—to be able to see the gentle exquisiteness of the process.
Most of the time, we force. We push. We pull.
We walk fast, talk fast, eat fast, breathe fast, work fast.
Everything is quick, clipped and choppy.
We rush love, tumbling into things before we truly know someone. We get hot and heavy and break our own hearts.
We rush change—taking steps, then leaps—then become frustrated by a perceived lack of progress and give up in harsh a storm of tears.
We rush life.
Maybe we think, if we move fast enough—if our days are a whooshing blur of busyness—then we won’t have to face ourselves. We won’t have to feel. We won’t have to peer inside and see that we’re sad or struggling or angry or scared sh*tless.
But, no matter how fast we move, there ain’t nowhere to hide. We can’t hide from ourselves, not ever. There is no escape valve.
What if we weren’t always in such a hurry?
What would happen if we slowed down, faced ourselves and stopped forcing everything to happen exactly when we think it should?
What if we let go, just a little bit, and let ourselves bloom in our own time?
So often, we plant a sh*t ton of seeds and don’t give them any time to grow.
They need time. They need tending to. They need water, golden sunshine and falling rain showers. They need all of that, over and over and over again. They need a gentle, nurturing touch.
So do we.
Change takes time.
Healing takes time.
Success takes time.
Stay the course, put in the time, and don’t get discouraged so easily.
And yes, it can be frustrating—but it’s so beautiful, too.
Let’s slow down, look around and breathe.
How often do we actually remember the beauty in breathing? I know that we say we do, but let’s actually do it.
Savor this breath. Savor it like a spoonful of mango sorbet.
And this one, too.
See with gentler eyes.
See that even though you might not be in full bloom right now, your roots are getting stronger, your foundation steady.
Because soon—so soon, in perfect time, not a moment before—emerald leaves will sprout and tiny, sweet buds will pop, snap and blossom with wild enthusiasm.
Love the process. It’s so sweet.
Love where you are right now.
Love change, even when it’s not so obvious. Love its subtle shades. Love the smallest, faintest hints of success, like the smell of spring wafting in the air as winter’s firm grasp is slowly dissolving. Love each little piece of progress, like a pale pink lily unfolding, petal by precious petal.
Love where you are right now. Love it, because it’s perfect, even it if sucks.
And when all else fails, remember the sublime power of your breath. It will bring you home to truth, always.
Ah, yes, truth—remember the succinct simplicity of truth.
Get naked with yourself, sit down with your heart, and maybe she’ll tell you the same thing my heart told me—
Patience, my love,
Patience is key.
And what is patience, really,
But letting go of everything we think we know?
Author: Sarah Harvey
Editor: Yoli Ramazzina
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