We're none of us born patient, as a baby's wails demanding immediacy can attest. But we learn as we grow that we must wait, and we find that we can. We wait for big things and small alike -- our loved ones to return home, our gardens to grow, and our turn to cross the street. Waiting is hard, plain and simple.
Patience, however, is not the same as waiting. For the most part, having to wait is not a thing we can control. But patience is solidly in our area of control. Patience is the calm mother who soothes her toddler's tired tears as the Target checkout line inches forward, creeping solidly into nap time. Patience is the gentle response to an aging parent who asks, yet again, for the exact information you delivered just moments ago. Patience is the kind response we off in a situation when we'd really like to scream. Or cry.
Whenever someone who doesn't knit finds out what I do for a living, they invariably say, "Oh, I could never knit -- I just don't have the patience." Sadly, they're missing out on a skill that would not only help teach them patience, but would fill in the difficult space until they've learned it. Ask me how I know this.
Like knitting, patience is a practice. It's something that you do over and over again, getting better at it all the time. It is its own reward. Knitting is tangible proof of growing patience. Your sweater/scarf/sock has absolutely no immediacy. It grows and evolves slowly as you make each stitch, one at a time. There's no rushing it. It will be done when it's done. Sure, you can knit more often, which I highly advise, but you can't really knit faster. Nor would you really want to. Because when you use your knitting as a way to relax, to unwind, to be present, the focus is not on faster, it's on right now. And as you knit, or learn how, try to be as patient and kind to yourself as you are to others.
I look forward to seeing you in the shop and around the table. You are always welcome here. ~Ellen