Take patience

My flight before New Year’s was delayed, communication about what was happening was unclear, and I was frustrated. I just wanted to be there.

“Take patience,” my boyfriend said to me. Ever sweet, knowing the exact right thing to say, and also a non-native English speaker. I loved this perfect language mistake, because not only did it make me smile, it made me appreciate patience more.

I love the idea of patience as something I can pick up, choose, put on, swallow like a glass of water.

Here—take patience.

All it needs is some TLC

About a year ago I burned myself on my neck with a curling iron rushing to get ready in a beautiful bathroom at The Wynn in Las Vegas. (No more rush!) It was nothing serious, fortunately, but it was in a visible spot and I was super hard on myself for hurting myself and making such a silly mistake, and I also was superficially concerned about it leaving a scar, and having to be a reminder that I’d look at every day of how careless I’d been. (Something, of course, I could choose to not add meaning to, but found incredibly hard to do in the moment[s] of emotion.)

My friend Divya, who happens to be a doctor and therapist (a psychiatrist, specifically) and therefore a great listener and the perfect person to soothe my concerns, happened to visit not long after. “Let me look,” she said. “No, it’ll be OK. All it needs is some TLC.” It was so sweet, and so simple, and she was so right. I took care to cover it, to apply nourishing creams, to protect it with SPF. These days it’s a barely visible, and when I notice it, it instead reminds me of my friend, her care, and that all things can heal with time, gentleness and love.

For Dr. Divy, with gratitude for the forever reminder of the power of TLC

Everything I've ever wanted

Today, a friend messaged me that she had the thought, the realization, that she has everything she’s ever wanted. It’s maybe not been in the moment she thought it would be, or the manner she expected. Still, she’s gotten it, and she still has it. Everything she’s ever wanted.

It’s a thought I’ve had before, and one I was meant to hear again, right then. A reoriented perspective on what is here right now, and a reminder. Reminders to release the timeline, release the constraints, and let be as big and beautiful as it is. Everything I’ve ever wanted. That, and more.

She ended it, too, with “How lucky am I,” and I loved reading it as a statement. How lucky is she, and how lucky am I, and how important that we see that—that we are lucky, and also that we choose to see—that we have everything we’ve ever wanted.

Everything is a theme

I heard someone say recently that “everything is a theme.“ I first thought of that in relation this blog and creating this space to write, reflect and create in a time when I was called to create more space in my life, often in playful ways, and how this has been, and is, a place to identify and understand themes at various points in my life, to process the past, to be with the present and to look toward the future, ideally, with more conscious awareness and loving attention.

I also found myself seeking a theme, wanting to identify a pattern, mostly because I often find it fun to play around with ideas and ideas identification. I didn’t have one for a while (like, a few days), and then it came to me quietly: patience. How fitting for it to enter that way, too, quietly, over the course of a few days, as I rest back into a month in Puerto Rico, a place where everything feels lusciously slower, a place that is always so patient with me.