“Patience, he thought. So much of this was patience – waiting, and thinking and doing things right. So much of all this, so much of all living was patience and thinking.”
I’ve had zero patience with myself this past week. My self talk has been especially nasty.
I’ve blamed it on the heat–maybe I’m dehydrated. I’m tired–maybe I need a nap. I did just get home after traveling and indulging in those late conversations fueled by excellent wine and amazing company.
Maybe…
All those ideas are basically old excuses made so I can dismiss the negativity. I’m a pretty quick study and I have that worn out puzzle memorized–connecting all the dots is a snap and in a matter of minutes every uncomfortable question is excused away.
Case closed–moving on.
NOT so fast, girl friend.
I’ve discovered any issue explained in such a neat and easy fashion must be flagged as dangerous. More often than not, I’ve read or heard something that stirred up something in my past that remains hidden in my subconscious mind.
It gets tricky trying to understand what triggered the internal alarm that alerted my insecure and fragile ego. This summer I’ve been pushing hard against all those walls I’ve constructed over the past sixty years. I suspect the answer may be as simple as slowing down some–giving myself more space a little more time.
Right now, at this very moment, I’m thinking it’s time to pour the wine, take a deep breath, and give thanks for all the good surrounding me.
“We can not solve our problems with the same level of thinking that created them”
I am…
B…simply being…
I am blessed and I am grateful.
~Peace be with you~
B...simply being... 