I wish I was patient, with being patient.
It does not come easy to me, it took me 20 plus years to realize what patience means to me. I was result driven. I read countless posts on Instagram, Facebook and all the social media gurus stressing on patience. Yet after 20 years I didn’t cultivate this habit called patience.
The dictionary defines patience as “The capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset”. The virtue of cultivating this habit called patience does not come easy.
My mother said, “we Bhutanese don’t have the patience for anything”. Was it something to do with culture or was it innate? How did people in the West cultivate this virtue? I have seen more impatient people here in New York than anywhere else in the world. Everything has to be fast; when you eat, walk, talk, spend and earn. This is a place where no one waits for you and time is precious for everyone.
With easy access to technologies, everything is done in an instant without waiting. I remember those days when I had no internet, no electricity at home most of the time. Waiting was mandatory and not a matter of choice.
Everyone is trying to become something as quickly as possible. “Hustle” the overused word these days and trying to get moving to reach somewhere. Enjoying the journey before heading towards your destination is easier said than done.
As a young girl in school, I wanted to be in college like my mother and wear her beautiful clothes. I wanted to grow into her cloths which eventually I did. When I reached college I was dying to finish my college and get good grades. After college, I wanted to work, so I worked but life wasn’t laid out for me like it did in my head. This is my life in a nutshell.
In the early winter of 2018, I pondered deep about my life, an unplanned map without destination and without a GPS. The only thing I wanted to do was listen to Sadh Guru on you-tube and go to his center to attend Inner Engineering. He said in one of his videos, “do what you love”. Again being a spiritual junkie, I thought what do I really like to do.
I do love to sing, dance and write. But what gives me freedom the most, of course, I equally loved all three but I chose writing. I wasn’t an avid reader or either writer, but I had the passion, so why not?
Writing nurtures my soul, enlightens my life, it connects me with the divine. Writing feels spiritual and therapeutic to me. Like meditation but with my eyes open and instead of sending my thoughts into subconscious I am jotting it down here in this blank canvas.
But I was impatient, I wanted to be featured in the New York Times and The Guardian. Without putting much effort into anything I wanted to rise higher. I wanted to be a successful writer within a short period of time. I felt the natural instinct to be on the top and strive for the best. Without much thought, I went into writing and wanted to make it big like J.K Rowling, Pankaj Mishra, Jane Austin, and many other wonderful writers. I was in that mind set. I also wanted to make big bucks while doing it and living a carefree life.
I felt immense guilt, trying to turn this art into something else and dishonoring the process. Nothing worthwhile comes quick and easy. Instead of enjoying it, I wanted to devour it. It was unethical for me to push that line and had to remind myself of the principles I had grown up with.
Good writing doesn’t happen overnight, I have to keep practicing and put words on black pages to get better. Constantly learning and unlearning.
I am not educated in literature, I wouldn’t say I was taught writing, I have received help along the way but I didn’t go to a formal school for writing. But studying in Liberal Arts did help me improve.
Here I am trying my hand at writing and trying to get better slowly, learning words that I have never heard. Learning to love the craft and the time that it deserves. Enjoying every bump, curve, roadblock, the good and bad it brings. I am writing what I feel and later letting it manifest itself.
I have written in my worst and best days. So, here I am feeling something and writing in-between and making sense of these emotions that passes my thoughts.
It is hard to write sometimes and challenging most of the days. The toxic cycle I get into, the laziness and over thinking comes with it. All the negative self-talks and the frustration of not being good at it. The feeling of incompetence seeps in and it’s difficult to write with those thoughts. The darkness completely engulfs me and I am scared to go back to it.
When I was in college I had to do proofreading and I didn’t have the habit of proofreading, I was impatient of making the written work polished by my writing tutor, I didn’t like to read what I had written. I thought my writing was below average in college. It doesn’t help when a student points out that they cannot understand what I had written.
Now, here I am going to defy the nature by doing what I am worst at and trying to make it in this field. It’s absolutely mind-boggling.
I am trying not to get caught up in my compulsiveness and trying my best to enjoy this process as much as possible. This is what I want to do until my last breath. If life has something store for me I will follow wherever it takes me.
