There’s no doubt that I had a great weekend. Todd and I sampled delicious small plates at The Stanton Social; I jogged 5.5 miles at an average pace of 11.5 minutes per mile, my longest run so far; and we walked with a friend along part of The High Line in Manhattan. As good as it was, this upcoming weekend promises to give last weekend a run for its money. I might get dinner with two close friends on Friday, I’ll spend Saturday with Todd, and Easter Sunday will be filled with family and laughter and irresistible desserts. But as the end of Lent approaches, I think it’s important to evaluate the progress I’ve made on my Lenten promise to give up impatience.
One of the things that tests this promise every day is the slow arrival of summer, and it hit hardest while walking the High Line. In summer, the elevated park overflows with colorful flowers and blooming trees, but in winter, their bark is pale and their branches spindly. I’m waiting for the trees to sprout leaves. I want to run in shorts, with sweat dripping from my skin. I want to walk outside without a coat. I want to start planting in my garden and watching it grow. I want to eat street foods and walk through street fairs and sit in Central Park and write poetry. But each time I feel that itch for summer, I try to take a deep breath and repeat a mantra: Patience is a virtue. Patience is a virtue. Patience is a virtue.
I’ve also been trying to show less impatience in other areas of my life. I’m trying hard not to be anxious about when I’ll find my dream job or let myself feel overcome by the desire for Todd and I to move into our own apartment right now. In my daily life, I hate rushing from place to place or activity to activity, and I keep reminding myself that impatience is just another form of rushing. Everything will come in its own time, and impatience will only cause my life to pass by in a blur without true appreciation for every minute of every day.
I’m reminding myself to be mindful and appreciative of everything I do. When I eat a good meal, I try to savor all of the flavors. When I take a walk, I try to notice the scenery around me instead of getting lost in my thoughts. When I exercise, I try to feel how each part of my body reacts to my movements. I’ve been taking yoga slow, holding poses longer and using it as a lesson in waiting.
I’m not doing a perfect job of controlling my impatience—I still check the trees for blooms when I walk past the park near my house—but I think I’m making progress. And even though Easter marks the end of Lent, my journey toward patience is far from over.