Thrumming Fingers

It's not the worry of the unknown which is driving me crazy. It's not the idea that I must sidestep the inevitable and my personal emotional perspectives. It's not the control that I know I must give up in order to be given help. What is absolutely flinging me sideways is the patience that I have had to grow and nurture against the norm of my body.

I have always been antsy and rather impetuous and it has more or less been something that I dealt with when and only when it became a problem. I haven't had this sort of reaction in ages. I know I must relax and invite the mystery to take it's time because surely it will not go any faster, but why on earth, must I demand an answer now?

Impatience has become a thing of the society; if you're stuck in traffic, expecting food at a restaurant, or sitting at a film watching previews... we are all so frustratingly fast-paced that we don't really take time to slow down and look at the rocks in the pavement or really look into the structures of blades of grass.

That was proven the other day at the mail box, but alas, thank you for keeping me preoccupied.

I am working at this patience. I will master it-- because really, what other choice do I have?