Our culture values convenience and instant gratification. We are constantly striving to make things quicker. We have been taught to give immediate feedback and expect to see results in real time. Our modern life requires some amount of quick turnaround, and yet, for many things, this not only isn't realistic, but it denies us the opportunity to appreciate the time in-between.
It can be hard to make the transition, from this fast paced world to a more laid back spiritual way of looking at things. Nature doesn't follow a schedule and things take as long as they take. You never know when exactly something is going to happen, and while there are plenty of things that have immediate consequences (poke an ant hill with a stick, and you will see an instant reaction!), most things unfold slowly, almost imperceptibly slow.
I think this is partly why nature fascinates us so much. We know changes are happening, we can see them when we let long periods of time pass, but when we sit and watch, everything feels timeless. I was fascinated by time lapse photography when I was little, watching a seed grow or a flower bloom was absolutely magical. I recently saw a beautiful 'year in one image', where an artist had taken a picture of a group of trees, every hour of every day for a year, and then compiled those into one picture (check the blog link out, it's amazing!) This sort of thing is fascinating, because it demonstrates the vastness of the changes that happen over time, and yet if you were to go to that spot and sit, it might feel very static.
I think many parts of our life are like that. It can feel like we are stagnant, like every day is the same as the day before and every day to come will be like today...which can feel quite heavy. It can be hard to start something new, because we don't see any progress, and it feels like we are doing all this work and getting no where.
But, I think there is a beauty to stepping back and allowing time to unfold. To focus on the waiting, on the process, on the becoming. When we shift our focus from the desired outcome to the journey, we pay attention to the moment. We change how we interact with time.
When you are anxiously awaiting something, time drags. It feels like every second is forever, and what you want will never get here! The more intensely you desire something, the longer time seems to stretch. Every action you take feels like it not only takes forever to finish, but it also feels like it doesn't give you much progress. You feel just as far away from the end as you did when you started the task.
But, if you start shifting your focus, if you pay attention to the actions you are taking, not where they are taking you, time bends in the other direction. Time feels like it doesn't exist. You get so caught up in what you are doing, because you are focused on the actions, on the feelings, on the sensations, that you aren't thinking about the end at all. You look up, and time has passed without you even noticing it!
Sometimes, we find ourselves waiting, without anything to distract us from our desires. Some spell work is like this. We set our intentions, we do our work, but then we send our energy out into the world and we must simply wait until things happen. It also reminds me of applying for a job. You do the work, you apply, you do your interview...but then you have to wait.
This passive waiting can create feelings of impatience with other areas of our life. We want so much for something to happen, that everything else feels less desirable. Things that used to bring us joy are dimmed, and we have to take a step back from our longing, and return to where we are at, so we don't let other areas of our life suffer while we wait.
Waiting sort of reminds me of the holding parts of breath work. I love breathing exercises, and many of the ones I do use counted breaths: you inhale and exhale for a certain number of counts. My favorites also include holding, both at the end of the inhale, when your lungs are full, and at the end of the exhale when they are empty.
This type of breathing exercise is very deliberate. You are controlling your breath, you are altering it's speed and limits. It can be deceptively hard, because some breathing pushes you past your regular rhythms and you have to really try to reach those higher counts.
And when you have already pushed so hard to get to the end of the inhale count, you might feel that you can't hold it. You were already feeling like you couldn't inhale any more, and that was two seconds ago! But I find that if I stop trying, if I stop pushing, and I just let myself float, there is this really easy quality to holding my breath. It isn't an active thing at all, it is very passive, it is a waiting, and it becomes effortless. I might struggle to inhale and exhale on an eight count, but I can hold for a count of four even after I'm shaking from the effort of breathing, because I don't have to do anything, I just have to wait.
There is a real special quality about that waiting, and it is subtly different when I am holding an inhale versus holding an exhale. Holding an inhale feels like being lost in a moment of joy. We think of waiting as something we do when we desire something that we don't have, when we are looking to fill ourselves. But we can wait and hold the moments of wonder and happiness when they come to us. Sinking into the moment and holding onto it becomes a form of waiting in reverse. Often, when good things happen, we are already looking towards the time when they are going to end. We know that time is fleeting and that any perfect moment will inevitably end. Sometimes, we can miss part of that moment, because in our mind we are already moving past it.
But, just like holding an inhale, we can 'wait' into the moment, and let it fill us, without moving past it in our head. We can slow down, and stop rushing towards the next experience and just enjoy the one we are in.
Holding an exhale has a sense of emptiness, but I don't feel it is akin to loneliness, for me it is more that I have created a space that can be filled. That held exhale is waiting for the next breath. If I didn't exhale, there would be no room for more air, no way to breathe in. I think that sometimes we push forwards, we strive for things, because we feel like we need to fill the spaces in our lives. If we stop, and sit with the emptiness, if we let it be and wait with it, we can really appreciate what is coming.
Waiting can be challenging, but learning to embrace the wait can teach you a different way of moving through life. There is an acceptance and a peace that comes from allowing things to unfold instead of trying to push them along on your own agenda. Take your cues from your breathing, and work with all the parts: the inhale, the exhale and the holding!
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