Patience, Where Art Thou?

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Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet. - Jean-Jacques Rousseau

I’m suddenly impatient, desperately so, to be off on this trip. I spent a solid hour yesterday browsing the quaint, inviting farms on the WWOOF Ireland site and it made me yearn to be there already, to do some hard labor alongside decent folk and stroll to the local pub in the evening for some fiddle music and a song. I’m itching to learn to surf. I’m desperate to take a zip-line through a forest. I’m aching to find some cozy, slightly in disrepair cottage near the ocean to settle in and write until my heart is full and satisfied. I’m longing to hold a joey in the crook of my arm as I watch evening TV with other animal lovers like me.

But I still have obligations to resolve, financial arrangements to make, residences to vacate, a lifetime of stuff to redistribute within the community. So I ask for patience, for focus on things that are not near as interesting as what’s up ahead from whomever can give such things (really I guess I’m asking myself). Because the wait, although no fun, is absolutely necessary and worth it in the end. Although I’m rolling my eyes as I type this, I know its true.

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