Patience (Or the Making of Something, Like A Dream)

Patience is a problem for me. 

My desperate plea yesterday is a symptom of that impatience.  Of course, I can not expect an entire novel to reveal itself to me instantly.  Of course, I shouldn't label it.  I should go with it.  The process is going to take the time it always does and I'm fortunate to have that time at all.

I'll admit I spend a lot of wasted energy, panicking, thinking When am I going to get there? 

Yesterday I learned that a good friend at work (and in life) is leaving the company. I have known this was coming. She's been nurturing a kind of dream for a while, spent time taking classes and workshops, getting the necessary certification, meeting the right people, investing volunteer time.  Her process has been slow but steady (as the turtle taught the hare.)

Together, we've tested the limits, took too-long lunches to walk the Highline, circle Madison Square Park, and lounge in the secret garden-- there is one in this concrete jungle but, as the name implies, I can not tell you where it is.  We'd find ice cream and Indian food and, through it all, talk about hopes, make big plans. 

I'll miss her but I'm happy to have walked a small part of her journey, excited to see where she'll go next.

I think desire is easy.  Once it's been found, the I want this comes without any effort at all.  It's the making of a dream that takes time.  I'm learning this.

Just as I'm learning every day to be patient.  It is very (very) difficult for me.  But things come.  Not just to those who simply wait but, I think, to those who make.