My mother has always been quick to remind me that since birth I have been impatient. I was premature by about 3 weeks, and my life has moved at a quick pace since then. For example, I got my learner's permit the day I turned 15, my driver's license the day I turned 16 and so now every few years I get to celebrate my birthday at the DMV; which is not nearly so exciting when you get older. After that I headed off to college, got married to the love of my life at age 19, and subsequently graduated college a semester early because I took 21 and 24 credit hours in some semesters.
My mother happens to be right about another thing: the older I get, the quicker time flies by. I find myself wanting to slow down to enjoy the little things in life more, but not being able to halt this break-neck headlong rush into the future. For example I haven't posted since last summer! My apologies. It is not because or an out of words to say, I simply ran out of time.
Now that I have started to teach classes at Sutton General Store in Granville, TN, one of the most valuable lessons I am trying to teach (and at the same time continue to learn myself) is the art of patience. The premeditated act of slowing oneself down. It is really amazing how iris the simplest things, and the most manual of activities that help you achieve this. For instance, taking TIME to knead a ball of dough, giving it TIME to fully rise (twice!), and to bake at the appropriate temperature; all of this TIME invested in the bread makes it that much more delicious. Not only is it delicious because it has been baked correctly, but you have had an opportunity for the magic of anticipation.
The same concept goes for making soap. There is a lot of time involved in making soap. Most of the time you are not actively participating in the process but it isn't until 3 weeks after the initial creation of the soap that you are able to enjoy the use of it. A garden could take months of attentive nurturing before you ever get to enjoy the literal fruits of your labor. And try rushing a garden...it does not work too well.
We are not made to rush either. Do you ever feel like your head is going to overflow with the list of things you have to do today or this week? I do. Do you ever realize that you left the grocery store without getting the milk, when that is the one thing you came for anyway? I do. Nature is not designed to run at such a break-neck pace. Everything has a season and everything happens in its' season. As I have grown older I have grown much more respect for not "pushing" the seasons along. I am not looking for what's next with a rabid anxiousness that if I don't get there right away I will fall behind. I do look forward to the coming events in life, but not in such a way as to drown out my present with the pursuit of my future.
It is when we look at the little things: the chickens drinking out of the bird bath, or the mouse nest in the wood pile, or the chortling song of Sandhill Cranes flying overhead, that we can truly accept TIME for what it is. It is not an obstacle to get around, but it is a gift to be savored. All good things take time. There are no real shortcuts to quality. And for those of you, who like me, have spent a large portion of your life combating time, good things also take patience.
Patience has been a particular challenge, (one I still struggle through), but it has also been the most rewarding of pursuits. I really encourage you to look for those little things that take patience to find and to truly see because patience makes perfect.
