gifts

last week was my birthday.  that, in my world, is an event.  my parents made a big deal about birthdays (and holidays) when i was growing up, giving my transient family a sense of tradition that would provide us with a feeling of home as we moved from base to base. as a result, i play up the birthdays of all my friends and loved ones... and i celebrate my own in the same manner.

this birthday was not one of the best. i got in a huge fight with a loved one that ended up disrupting a majority of the day's plans.  and a yearly call i was expecting from another loved one didn't light up my phone, despite my constant monitoring. these let downs seemed magnified on my birthday, and i cried and felt depressed all afternoon and evening as a couple of friends visited and others facetimed and called to try to talk it through with me.

all i wanted was to have a glass of wine.  or six.  i wanted to just go out with my best friend and shrug it all off; to pretend like i wasn't hurt and fucking celebrate my birthday.

but there was one additional complication: i gave up drinking for my birthday.

last fall i toyed, for this first time, with being sober.  i blogged about the journey as i started with 40 days, extended it as i was "assigned" an additional 40 days by elena brower (ex-life coach, present and eternal teacher), and then the lessons i learned about myself along the way.

but there were a few things i left out, even in my honesty: 1) the real reason i started the first 40 days, and 2) the depth of the concern i had that i couldn't do it; that i enjoyed alcohol maybe a little too much for me to give it up for even 40 days.

the real reason i started the 40 days?  the rape i didn't really want to talk about yet.  yes, i wrote a vague blog about it.  yes, i named it as rape and several days later even reported it.  yes, i was doing a lot of things to process.  but the initial motivator for the 40 days was when my research assistant asked me "do you think you're drinking more?" as part of a post-rape self-care inventory.

"no," i immediately replied, insistent, even to myself, that i was handling this.  but when i got home and got in the bath that night, i noticed there was a large glass of wine in my hand.  and i thought, "i don't normally automatically pour wine when i walk into the house." and my next thought: FUCK.

and so, the 40 days.  i wanted to demonstrate that my life would not be negatively affected.  i wanted to show myself i had the strength to do something i didn't think i could (thematic in my life).

and that's where that second omission surfaces:  i had concerns about my ability to stop drinking. in my first post about it, i even seem to minimize the sobriety aspect of the 40 days with the calorie counting moratorium i threw in to the challenge. (side note: the calorie counting was actually harder for the first several days... and that behavior had plagued me much longer!) but i had deeper, more secretive worries about giving up drinking: some related to social situations, but others were around the relationship (or obsession) i've cultivated with avoidance mechanisms.

i've blogged more openly about bulimia and dating as avoidance, but not about drinking.  drinking, with most of my friends, is not something we need to talk about.  because it's assumed that everyone is always drinking.  a lot.  you could blame it on the penn state influence, australian norms, or the single-in-the-city lifestyle.  but a majority of my friends are drinkers. so why would i concern myself with analyzing an avoidance mechanism that is an acceptable part of my life and relationships?

each drinking event i attended sober became easier and easier.  sober dates and sober holidays and sober vacations followed.  it was more recently that i came across some life planning notes, from life coaching work with elena, that hit home the non-named concern i had with drinking at the start of the 40 days.

excerpt from work written 5/5/14:

Things friends have said recently, but I tucked away due to denial:
Hal: Does your drinking every worry you?
Owen: It’s basically like rape when we have sex and you’re that drunk.
Matt: Yeah, I didn’t realize we always do that [drink so much when together].
Kitty: But we don’t have a problem, right? We’re young and single; we wouldn’t do this if we had families.

dare i say i'm thankful for the impetus to start the 40 day journey?  reading about my previous denial scared me. i wondered if the "sober thing" would have ever appealed to me.  emergency room visits and blackouts hadn't influenced me to change my behavior; who's to say that anything would have?

in the 7 months after the "40" days, i haven't had much to drink on any one occasion.  i've learned i don't like alcohol or its after effects on my body or mind. and i LOVE being totally clear in my life and intentions.

this is how i 37.

and yet i've been afraid to totally give up alcohol.  isn't it nice to have that one glass of wine occasionally?  isn't it therapeutic to have a martini with a friend when they really need it?  isn't it socially acceptable to have a glass of champagne while attending a wedding? i had a million reasons not to give it up.

and then, about a week before my birthday, i realized the problem.  i was looking at this from a perspective of lack, and the only solution to that was to re-frame it.  and so i did: this birthday i gave myself the gift of not drinking (ever again).  the disappointing july 6th had no wine; the party with all my friends the next day had no whiskey (well, none in my glass!); the birthday dinner the following night had no cocktails. 

but i have so much more. 

and this, my loves, is the how, the why, and the what of my 37th birthday. 

dear diary

when i was home last weekend, i found my childhood diary. it was locked, so i then had to find a hammer.

ok, adi had to find a hammer.

once inside, i curiously read through entries written from 7-15 years of age. it was pretty hilarious: i titled each entry (much like a blog post), and numbered all the pages so that i could say "see page 62" for updates on past topics (paper-based keyword search!).

i also went back and re-wrote some of the early entries with better handwriting... and then made a note that i shouldn't have done that, and apologized to my future self for doing so.

i found it very important to record events of note, especially every birthday gift i received and on which days my sister was a brat (titled "shayna the pain-a").

the thing that stuck out the most to me, though, was the amount of change from there to here. case in point, this entry about how i hated the whole state of california because it was in that state that my parents sent me to a sexuality education class:

"I knew I wouldn't like it here as much as I did in MS. I took a sex education. Everyone always seems to be talking about it. I don't feel comfortable. I didn't know hardly anything about it in MS. I liked it there much more. see pg. 41--I was right"

(page 41 was before the move, when i worried about how terrible living in california--and spelling it--would be.) and now? i dare you to try to engage in a conversation with me where i do not mention sexual health. change.

and thank god people can change. we shouldn't go around expecting people to change in the direction we want them to, but the true miracle is that we can and do all change. it happens in our own opinions and attitudes; it happens in our relationships; it happens in our yoga practice. the change goes up, it goes back, it goes around a bit, and then it flips. expecting or guessing at the direction of change: impossible? worthless? a waste of time?

yesterday i received a text from someone that hurt me about six weeks ago. receiving the text was a little unsettling--it kind of came out of nowhere. i had to sort through my feelings by texting with approximately 16 of my closest friends.

what did i figure out? it took a sleepless night to tell me that i was clearly still bothered by this, and while i appreciated the text, i kind of didn't know what to do from there. i'm not the same person i was six weeks ago. and, as evidenced by the apology text, the sender isn't either. change.

i'm not about to launch into some deep analysis of this situation. quite the opposite actually. i am left with this feeling of gratitude: i am grateful that we can change. i'm grateful for my growth; i'm grateful for the growth those around me experience. and i'm pretty amazed at our overall levels of morphability.

but, on the other hand, the other evidence the diary presented was my desire to write, to record, to be precise, and to make sure my reader felt fully informed and could understand the whole story. and THAT is still me. 28 years later: very much the same. and, yet... so. much. change.

ps: sorry i said you were a pain, sister. i love you!

dual

I got citizenship. I got a passport: "two black books" as adi says. I left Sydney feeling like I was moving... again. it still feels like home. I have the loyalty card for every coffee and frozen yoghurt shop, I have the lingo down, I have the peeps to call in any mild emergency: I have my own international family there.

but, yes, nyc feels a little like home too.

I feel guilty every time I think that; like I'm betraying my life in sydney.

in some ways I feel like I belong nowhere. (Air Force brat!) but I also feel like yeah, maybe I belong both places. maybe I belong everywhere.

I had a few different friends tell me things like that. mr I'm-a-citizen-of-the-world matt was my favorite: we are "like fucking James Bond!" laurel: "We are now officially more cool than allllll of our friends!" yeah. ok. dual citizenship is pretty fucking awesome. but. how do you actually live in two countries, in two hemispheres, in two datelines?

that's a real question. help me, because that's what I plan on doing. I fully believe in this: I covered a yoga class while I happened to be in Sydney, I ran into a friend on the street I hadn't seen in months, I picked up a ring that I had left for repairs, I was asked by a bakery lady how has it been that she hasn't seen me recently... I still belong there. and I want to continue to belong there.

so f u convention. (yeah, you totes never expected that from me, huh?!) but seriously. I'm doing this. see you in three months Sydney. I love you.

jo. lydia. bal. chuck. hal et al. matt (yeah I consider you Sydney). same, anthony. hayden. mandy. kel. david. sydney. rob. sam. norm, nut, sally (all the hashers). shel. lisa. julie. rachel. bron. mish. samantha. rachel and jeremy. adam. superman. james. chris. even owen. all the boys. all the friends. all the yoga students.

andrew.

just so you know: you're all there. and I'm there. and I'll be back. xo

impermanence::home

saturday morning i went to a yoga class at the yoga loft in newcastle. the teacher taught a theme of impermanence. i thought "why is this resonating SO FREAKING MUCH?!" hmmm.

organising this move has been hard: each step forward takes quite a bit of emotional effort. i've struggled with a lot of it: questioning my choices about what to take, worrying about the amount of items and furniture going; anxiety over choosing the best moving company, not understanding what services are included; trying to figure out where all the funds come from for all the shipping and airline tickets; et cetera and et cetera.

last week i realised this stuff was so hard because i was operating from this baseline level of self-doubt: i wasn't thinking that i could actually manage this transition. meanwhile, "moving" keeps autocorrecting to "loving" and "movers" to "lovers" in my texts. i think these were messages from the universe: i had to shake some of this doubt so that i could start really accomplishing some of the items on the list.

so i went to see patty to cleanse some of this out of my system. she helped me realise that: 1) yeah, i like my stuff, and that's ok. i'm not a bad person because i'm moving more shoes than imelda marcos ever owned. 2) i need to do what's right for me at each stage of this move. i don't need to answer to someone else's idea of how i should finance things before i receive reimbursements. 3) if i shift some of this doubt, i can start to actually get excited about this.

i had started a lot of the moving checklist items, but after this session with patty last week, i knocked some of these items out for real. i told anthony exactly how long i'd be staying with him (ahem). i packed up my office (with help from louise and hayden), got people to come pick up the items (thanks hayden!), and cleared out personal items. i called the movers that had given me quotes, got re-quotes, got more evidence, and finally scheduled a mover. i found and scheduled someone to pick up remaining items and donate them to an aboriginal help centre. i organised which day i'm actually flying out.

i thought: i'm doing well; i'm really going to move. i'm getting excited! ...and then the endings began.

--i had my last day in the office. (richard gave me flowers, we did speeches, i cried, hayden and mandy made me pose for photos, mandy states "it's the end of an era!")

--i had my last art therapy session with the woman i've been seeing here for six years. (we review hundreds of artworks, i relive my entire life journey in sydney, i cry.)

--i taught my last yoga class--and specifically, at a place where i've had that same time slot since it opened three years ago. (my class comes even though class was officially cancelled for the holidays--unbeknownst to me--and we have a beautiful class. i see my students putting their all into the theme and their practice. i see every student get into crow, even the student who asked for it because she was certain she could never do it. i cry. i promise to come back.)

woah, guys. this is all big stuff. *impermanence-slap-in-the-face*

impermanence. oh. yeah. that's my life right now. of course that theme would fucking resonate with me. i don't know where i'm going to be living soon, i won't have a routine, i won't know many people... and right now it's much the same: i'm living in the state of limbo--not knowing exactly what i'm doing for the next few weeks as i try to see all of my closest friends here those last few times.

chuck and bal keep saying "this is the last time we'll walk down this road on a saturday morning," or "this is the last time we will eat at this restaurant on a thursday evening," which are most likely true statements. but i BEG them to stop it each time they make those declarations. *impermanence-slap-in-the-face*

what's funny is that everything is impermanent. we just don't always see it. but when i looked back through the art i had created over the past several years in art therapy, i could physically see it: i saw myself move through numerous relationships and stages of friendships; i saw worries and stresses appear and disappear; i saw a marriage dissolve; i saw new opportunities emerge. it was all there in black and white. and color. and 2D and 3D.

everything is impermanent. and it is just as beautiful as those artworks.

if we allow it to be.

so, as i fill out the forms to organise the movers, and i look around at this apartment roxie and i have made a home, i feel a little sad.

but knowing that this sadness won't stay, and that there is so much excitement to come, helps me be a little more present in this space of impermanence i'm occupying right now.

because, after all, it's really where we all live.

spring cleaning

i once went to a comedy show where the comedian started off the show saying "does anyone out there actually know what their name means?" me, sitting in the front row: "umm, yeah."  he asked what my name was, and as i replied, he immediately followed up with "and what does it mean?" i looked at him like he was insane and said, "it's a season!" he replied, "oh. yeah. ok; you win that game!" and moved on. everyone laughed and it was hilarious.

i love all the opportunities my name has for jokes and teasing.  and i'm obsessed with things that have my name in it. when springtime comes, i get to see my name EVERYwhere.  and the really great thing is that i get to have this when it hits springtime in the US, and when it hits springtime in australia.  i'm a super lucky girl.

anyway, it's spring in sydney.  finally.  spring is the most exciting of the season changes (yeah, yeah, i know, i might be biased).  but the reason i think it's so exciting is because it really is the time of year when everything is fresh and new. we get to break out of hibernation.  we get to blossom.  we get to really glow.

you'll notice people getting outside more; breaking up their routines; smiling more; reconnecting with others in their lives... getting happier.

and one of the super typical things we associate with spring is "spring cleaning"--the act of getting rid of stuff we don't need anymore; clearing out our space; making room for the new.

we do this in our closets regularly. but we also need to remember to do it in our lives.


i went to kelli's day retreat on saturday where she used "spring cleaning" as a theme for the day.  i stole the idea of the theme and made it my own when i taught both yesterday and tonight: the idea of letting go of things that aren't serving us in our lives is one of my favorite yoga themes.

i like this theme so much that i usually go back and teach it about once a month. because there are ALWAYS things we need to let go of.  there are so many little habits and ways that we get stuck. and being reminded that we have the power to let go of them, to move on, to expand and blossom--well that's just about the most empowering thing in the world.

when i practiced with kelli on saturday i thought of the relationships in my life that weren't giving me everything i needed.  i meditated on thoughts of my heart blooming.  and in savasana, these images of angels dusting out my heart snuck in front of my eyelids.  i was lying there, completely calm, completely at peace, and i just felt myself being dusted out.  i felt myself shining a little brighter.  and it felt amazing.

after i taught this theme sunday afternoon, i had a few people tell me how much they got out of it.  one student told me he had never had such an emotional experience in a yoga class. another told me how much she shifted during that hour. a few others told me how much they enjoyed it.  tonight, the same thing happened.

but you know what's so cool about that? each of us has that power. each of us can do that for ourselves.

i had dinner last night with a friend who is on a super high vibration right now.  she's got her duckies all lined up and she is ready to take on the next stage of her life: no doubt about it; she's gonna rock it.  she and i talked a bit about that idea of realizing your power in a situation, or even just realizing your power to change your attitude in a situation.  and about how easy it can be to forget that we have that power.

so, here's a little reminder: you can do it.  you can let it go.  you can have a little more spring in your step.  even if you're living in the "other" hemisphere right now.  clean out your inner closet; let go of that thing that's holding you back--why would you want to keep hanging on to it any longer than you have to?

to my friend that's on the verge of a divorce. to my friend who isn't sure what her marriage might hold for her. to my friend that doesn't know what career she'll have next week. to all my friends.

make room for new patterns, new ideas, new opportunities, and new people in your life. make room for the next, better thing. make room for yourself.

endings/beginnings/circles

i sobbed for about 100% of the 15 minute savasana in yoga tonight: this flash of something my friend anthony said to me about 8 months ago popped into my head. and then all of these memories came flooding in: anthony insisting on phone numbers for every one of my million dates per week; anthony spying on me while on dates, checking up on me; anthony checking in on me when i felt depressed; anthony making me come over when i insisted i couldn't get out of pajamas.

never mind anthony creating and then having train club with me several times a week, distracting me via funny snapchats across the table at work meetings, covering for me when i needed a mental health day (or had a date at the beach).

more than anyone, anthony has been there for me consistently since my husband left almost two years ago. anthony has been that strong, centered, consistent, and reasonable (yet ridiculous) voice that i've listened to when i refused to listen to anyone.

ever have something bad happen and ALL you want to do is prove that you're ok? i don't think i really knew it, but that was me. i tried to prove i was ok after my husband left in about 100 ways: oh, i'll just date all the time; oh, i'll live by myself and make it on my own; oh, i'll be super tough and independent and not lean on anyone.

oh, wait. maybe i don't have to.

anthony stepped in when i didn't know i needed it, and he has been one of the best supports, colleagues, and friends that i could've asked for.

and, this weekend, he moves back to the US.

i'm heartbroken. i am actually heartbroken. i am more heartbroken that when my husband left. anthony helped me and he helped me help myself become whole again. and thinking about him leaving is something i've avoided. HARD CORE.

when anthony practiced his leaving speech for our boss, when anthony discussed plans to get his dog tillie home, when anthony talked about plans for his new apartment: i put my fingers in my ears and say "i don't want to talk about this."

but that hasn't changed anything. he's still leaving. he's going on to a great job at a great university and a great new life.

and i know that i'll still be part of it. but i'm still sooo soooo soooooo sad.

so it hit me tonight. and it hit hard.

and it has me thinking about beginnings: starting a new life after a friend or partner leaves, starting a new job, moving to a new country, or just trying a new yoga class.

and about endings: relationship ending, leaving a job, leaving a home, letting go of something that hasn't been serving you.

beginnings aren't always rosy. they're not always easy. and endings aren't always sad or difficult. but you know what both beginnings and endings always are? the same: it's all the same circle. it's all just life.

and i'm super grateful for this life. and grateful for all the amazingness that i've found along the way, including my amazing relationships with friends and partners.

and, anthony, i'll miss you most of all. (yeah, that's an OZ reference. super appropriate leaving AUS and all... but umm, no comment on the brain thing... ;) xx tony

i choose, umm, the easier option, please?

imagine you're at a restaurant, and you're really hungry. you're provided with two equally-priced options: 1) you go pick all the ingredients up from the garden and store, bring them back to the restaurant, help prep them, help cook them, help set the table, and then you can eat the dinner. or, 2) you eat the exact same meal, but three hours sooner, since the restaurant has already done the prep-work for you.

well, i don't know about you, but if i'm really hungry, i'm going to choose option two. because it's easier. and just because i don't mind working for things, and i actually like cooking, that doesn't mean that i wouldn't choose the easier option in this situation. it seems to offer the same results with noticeably less time and effort.

while this analogy isn't perfectly aligned with life's choices, we can still find similarities. just because option two allows us to get to the result more quickly, there are potential trade-offs: by choosing option two, we've missed out on an experience, an opportunity. maybe we lost a chance to learn some new techniques or lessons. we probably wouldn't appreciate the final product as much either. so maybe option one seemed easier at the time, but maybe option two would have made many other situations easier in the future.

recently i had a really close friend tell me that she had liposuction about a year ago. she hadn't told anyone about it, but she was starting to shift some of her thinking around her experience, and she shared her experience with me. before i continue, let me set the scene: this is a young, beautiful, athletic woman. my sister once commented on a photo of this young woman saying something like "wow, she's beautiful! is she your friend??" additionally, she's in a loving relationship.

but, she suffers from some insecurities. before her surgery, her thinking patterns were telling her "you don't look good enough; the easiest way to change this is through a surgery." after the surgery however, she has come to realize that she took what she thought was the easiest option to make herself feel happier. it didn't work. because the option she chose wasn't the easy option. it wasn't the better option. it just seemed that way at the time.

in gabby bernstein's 40-day guidebook "may cause miracles", she says:

our fear-based minds believe that change is tough and self-reflective work is difficult. but let's face it: being consumed by fear is far more difficult than showing up for love--we're just tricked into thinking fear is "easier" because it's more familiar. when people at my lectures complain that change takes too much time and energy, my response is, "it takes a lot of time and energy to feel like crap, right?"

this excerpt reminded me of something one of my favorite yoga teachers, christina sell, said at a workshop once. she was talking about a relationship of hers. she said that she was thinking of ditching the relationship because she thought it would be easier than working through all of the hard stuff in the relationship. she received some advice from one of her teachers that said something to the effect of "think of how hard and painful it will be to end this relationship."

no option is ever really and truly easy. but for some reason we trick ourselves into thinking that the fearful responses are easier. personally, i love to avoid things. my go-to move when something sounds difficult or time-consuming is to simply distract myself with something else. i don't know what i expect to happen: that the situation will just sort itself out? that someone else will take care of it? that a magician will appear with a wand to make it disappear? secretly, yeah, i guess i'm constantly keeping my fingers crossed for my fairy godmother to appear.

but, since, let's face it, that isn't an entirely realistic option, i've started to do some work to address this fearful thinking. as i've started doing this work, i've discovered it's much easier than i expected it to be. i've been addressing things that i haven't addressed in over a year: contacting people to sort things out; being honest and open with people that i thought wouldn't accept me if i had those conversations with them.

and yeah, gabby, it DOES take a lot of energy to keep fighting myself, to put myself down, to feel judged. so why in the heck would i want to continue to do it? (umm, i don't.) those habitual responses seem easier, since i'm so accustomed to them. but they aren't necessarily easier. and they most certainly aren't better.

in the yoga class i taught tonight, we practiced identifying these options on our yoga mat. yeah, it seems easier to let the floating leg just hang out and relax. because we think "relaxing is easier than working." but really, as experienced yogis know, "a tight leg is a light leg." and then we meditated about being open to seeing different options, the non-habitual responses, in our everyday lives. if you're a yogaglo subscriber (or wanna try a free sample membership), here's a good centering meditation by elena brower to try to start to bring you in to this frame of mind.

i'm re-wiring. i don't want the anxious avoidance to be ever-present in my life. i want to choose love. i want to be there, happy and calm, to see what happens when i consistently choose love. will it be harder? will it be easier?

who cares? it will be better.

chrysalis

yesterday i listened to a podcast about black boxes. you know: when something goes in and something else comes out, but we don't really know how or why. both the scientist and the yoga instructor in me were fascinated by the three stories. the last part of the podcast, "goo and you," was about caterpillars, butterflies, and that mysterious black box in the middle: the chrysalis.

so, i didn't know this, but apparently we don't know a whole lot about how caterpillars shed one body and become a whole new being. but, we do know some things. first of all, we know that if you condition caterpillars to be fearful of a certain smell, they will retain that conditioning once the become a butterfly. which means: they aren't a whole new being; they carry with them memories (painful memories) from their past life. also: if you cut open a caterpillar, you can find the beginning of wings held inside their bodies. which means: their future self, their next evolution of themselves, is already growing in their current self. ummm. woah. that's pretty crazy, right?!

and that begs the question: what of my future self is in me right now? ...and how can i nurture it? how can i foster its development and growth so that it truly blossoms?

and, how can i guarantee that i've learned the lessons from my past life? how can i make sure that i keep those past life experiences close to my heart without letting them fully define me?

well, yoga. meditation. reflection. and a heaping sprinkling of love and hope.

i guess i don't really know what's next for me. but i'm excited to find out.

i'll be in my chrysalis. i'll let you know on the other side. x

teaching the world

in this new year, i'm renewing my commitment to my relationship to myself: renewing the commitment to keep working on it and allowing it to blossom.

i usually find the beginning of a new year a little daunting. i hate making resolutions; i hate putting additional pressures and rules on my life. i just want today to be another day.

but it isn't just another day. it's another year.

this morning i was feeling a little depressed, a little crazy, and a little negative toward myself. i was missing one of my friends, i was reflecting on the past year, and i was feeling a little anxious about the new year.

now. let me revise what i just wrote. see all of those "little" statements? they're lies. i was feeling a lot today. a. lot.

this afternoon i managed to get myself onto my mat for an online yogaglo class with elena. it's a class i've done before; one that i often go to when feeling like i was feeling today. what's funny is that it helps me every time. like somehow i forget the lessons from it.

and then i'm reminded.

at the end of this class, elena says "how we relate to ourselves teaches the world how to relate to us." oh. shit. that's totally what i did not do today. i was freaking mean to myself all morning. i was beating myself up all afternoon. is that what i want from the world? is that what i want for my new year? hell. no.

so when i notice self-negativity, i promise myself that i will use my practice to soften and release it. "teach the world how to treat you by how you treat yourself." yeah. i will. #xo2014

... Wait for it...

One of things I have the most trouble with is one of the things I love the most about this world: that nothing ever stays the same. I’ve blogged about this before, but I have to remind myself of it so often, that I think it’s worth blogging about again. I know that all things are in a state of flux, but some days it’s hard to remember it. Sometimes things seem terrible, and it seems if they will always be that way. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve had some hard days—not due to any external events, mostly just internal craziness. Yoga teaches us to be patient and endure when a difficult situation arises, rather than react.

Being patient is hard! But being patient for long enough brings change and the time and space to find contentment. There will always be something else we feel that we need; some other thing that we are waiting for that will bring the happiness we expect. But if we instead are patient and content with what we have, we can find the fulfillment that is already there.

I can’t help thinking that patience is one of the hardest lessons to learn. We strive for instant gratification. We are used to fast food, instant messaging, and lightening fast replies to emails. Waiting isn’t something that is valued in our society. We get angry when we see the line at the post office: we panic about what will be lost, what won’t be completed, and what we will have to sacrifice. Instead we should savor those moments—those times when we can practice our patience. We can gain something, find some completion, and surrender to the experience.

Patience is what will get us through. Because things are always changing. And if you can’t find the internal fulfillment just yet, don’t worry. Just be patient.