In the whirlwind of life, I often find myself juggling what feels like a thousand tasks, both big and small. It’s a circus act, and I’m the ringmaster trying to maintain a semblance of order. So, when asked, “What have you been working on?” my answer is far from straightforward. It’s a medley of endeavors, a patchwork quilt of personal growth, responsibilities, and the quest for authenticity.

One of the smaller tasks that have taken on monumental significance is my foray into gardening. Yes, you read that right. I hate bugs and have a tendency to get bit all the time. So, this is huge for me. Gardening, the art of coaxing life from the earth, has become a profound journey for me. It might seem like a trivial pursuit, but there’s something incredibly humbling and insightful about tending to a garden.

Gardening has taught me the importance of patience and nurturing. It’s a slow dance with nature, a reminder that not everything can be rushed. Just as seeds need time to sprout, so do we need time to grow, change, and evolve. The garden is a metaphor for life, where I’ve learned to appreciate the beauty of gradual progress, one day at a time.

But I’m not just dabbling in the world of daisies and daffodils. I’m also tackling some weightier matters. Such as pulling weeds and creepers. And, planning vacations which may sound like a breeze, but in a world filled with uncertainties and challenges, it’s no small feat. The idea of taking time off has become a puzzle I’m determined to solve. It’s an effort to step back from the chaos of daily life, to recharge and rediscover the joy of relaxation.

Yet, amidst these smaller and bigger tasks, the grandest challenge I’ve embarked upon is the quest for patience. It’s a virtue I’ve always struggled with, and it’s become even more elusive in the face of significant losses and setbacks.

This year has thrown me some heavy punches, from the heart-wrenching pain of losing a loved one to the gut-wrenching fight against cancer. In the wake of such profound experiences, I found myself at a crossroads. My impulsive nature whispered in my ear, tempting me to make drastic changes or decisions, to escape the pain, or perhaps even to distract myself from it.

But I remembered the sage advice that one shouldn’t make big changes or decisions in the aftermath of such monumental losses. It’s a gentle reminder that grief and trauma can cloud our judgment. I had to grapple with the fact that my impulsive inclinations might not lead me down the right path at this delicate juncture.

So, I’ve been diligently working on patience. It’s a silent struggle, a daily exercise in self-restraint. I’ve been navigating those moments when I felt compelled to take drastic action, whether it was selling the house or making other sweeping life changes. In some instances, I initiated the processes, only to hit the brakes before reaching the point of no return.

The concept of waiting and pacing myself, as advised, has been an intricate dance with my own nature. It’s a journey that requires me to reflect deeply, to scrutinize my motivations, and to wait until the fog of grief and loss has cleared, revealing the path that should truly be taken.

I’m learning that patience isn’t a passive act but an active one. It’s a conscious choice to step back, to resist the urge to rush into the unknown, and to listen to the quiet wisdom that says, “Wait, my dear. It will become clear in time.”

In the midst of all these endeavors, both big and small, I’ve come to realize that the essence of authenticity lies not only in our actions but also in our responses to life’s challenges. It’s about finding the balance between the urge for change and the wisdom of patience. It’s about embracing the multifaceted nature of our existence, where gardening, vacation planning, and the pursuit of patience converge into a beautiful, messy, and profoundly human journey.