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I swear I asked this question before here, but could not find the thread... So... please fellow Bummers, remind me again what is it about patience, how do you cook and what do you eat it with. Any references to TTJ, i-Ching, classics, etc. ( i.e old texts) are welcome. Personal experiences are welcome as well. How do you train patience? If you need to do something, how do you do it with patience ( if the world is crashing on you), how do you do "patience" but not "check-out", "indifferent" or "lethargic"... meow p.s. winner gets a cookie.
There was a time, some years ago, when I had a need to have a conversation with a certain person. As a private conversation, it had to be undertaken in a place that was not where he lived, where he worked, or where he went when he was not working; it had to occur on the way that he would travel between these places. The reason for the conversation, the details of it, and the consequences to the person beyond it are of no consequence to this story, it is a story of an experience. Along a path that the person was known to take, beside the trail with it's rocks and bushes, overlooking a small forested area, I found a place to wait. I did not know when the person would come this way, only that he would, in time. I settled in beside a bush, and focused my mind upon stillness. In order to remain undisturbed, I set my mind to be like that of a rock: unmoving, undisturbable, unremarkable. As time went on, people walked by. Some looked in my general direction, but I noticed that they did not see ME, or the "I" that is me ... they only saw a rock sitting beside a bush. All of myself, my clothing, my body, my kit, my tools .. only percieved as a rock beside a bush. No great wonder to myself, for after the first few hours of sitting, the desire to move had all but gone, the presence of musculature and mode of motion had all but fled from the conciousness. The illusion of time had been so contracted, that a moment and an hour were nearly imperceptible. The sun traveled( oh, illusion!) in it's arc, and as twilight began to set in, a spider dropped from the bush to the top of the rock that was I. To the spider, I was a permenant feature, or at least unlikely to move, and so she began to go about her business, spinning a web. The concerns of the spider, where her thoughts were, were so simple; squeeze here, relax there, follow the pattern so ancient and ancestral to her nature. In the pattern and the following of it laid the key to continued survival; the web spun, the insects caught, the meal consumed ... one day, she would mate and lay her eggs, but not now. Observing the spider, I could have easily reached out and flicked her away. Squashing her fragile body between my fingers would have been no heroic feat - but I was a rock, imobile of my own nature, and so she finished her work. For a time we were as one, the spider and I. Both waiting, both waiting. A life, a destiny, a meeting; chance, but not by chance. Life taken and life preserved, life continuing. When I arose to complete my purpose, the tearing of the web seemed the greatest violence.