The world around us, if paid attention to, is an incredible teacher.
From her, I’ve learned the art of practicing patience in the most interesting of ways.
For example, one time when I took my reheated leftovers out of the microwave, my fingers tingled in anticipation.
I mean, I’ve been counting down the seconds. Tick. Tock. You know exactly what I experience because you’ve probably done the same. Waiting there. Watching the countdown timer count down.
Knowing that soon, delicious food will be coaxed into your eagerly waiting mouth on its way to your just as eagerly waiting belly.
We all do this. It’s normal. It’s natural.
Perhaps it was homemade leftovers. Or even leftovers from that fancy Italian place you finally checked out last night. There’s a good chance that the flavours have all soaked in, marinated, and it will taste even better.
You are primed. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Just like I was.
You KNOW that anticipation that courses through your body. That elevates all your senses. Just like I felt all the way to my finger tips.
But then I realized that it wasn’t anticipatory tingling I felt, but burning. Not just any burning, but burning of the flesh. Of my finger tips.
And it hurt.
So I put the freshly nuked container down.
And waited again.
The Art of Practicing Patience.