Monday, March 25, 2013
I admire the patient, well-balanced people.
My own journey to becoming a more patient and mindful person has taken a few detours over the past couple of years.
Due to a couple of appointments looming and my wishing to reduce stress levels last week, I had arranged to take Wednesday as a vacation day.
My early morning started with one cup of instant coffee, an empty stomach and a team effort to unceremoniously stuff a Tabby cat into her carrier. She was not allowed to have breakfast prior to a medical procedure. Being the empathetic person that I am, I chose not to eat either.
We waited and waited for a taxi. I used my iPad mini to take photos of the Cedar Waxwings invading the cherry trees in my neighbourhood. It was a pleasant distraction for me but not for the cat.
After waiting patiently for an hour to finally reach a taxi driver who would take a pet in his pristine vehicle, we arrived at the veterinarian's office, apologetic and flustered. I signed Miss Kitty in for the day, said goodbye and promised to return later in the afternoon. She was not pleased.
After treating myself to a hearty restaurant breakfast of steak and eggs, I bussed to my own doctor's office for a pre-arranged appointment. When the doctor informed me there would be a ten-minute delay, I thanked him and waited patiently, reading Madame Bovary (the English version downloaded to my iPad Mini). I didn't have the energy to dig out my glasses to read the meditation book I had also toted along. Besides, after another twenty minutes of waiting, I was not in the state of mind to accept the wisdom presented within.
When the good doctor was finally ready, he thanked me for being considerate. Considerate? I was hoping to hear "patient" or "understanding".
The purpose of the visit was to review the results from tests he had requested a couple of weeks prior. To be brief, he confirmed that I am at that certain stage in life.
This explains those sudden hot spells, mood swings and a growing impatience when suffering fools.
I next made my way to meet an older, wise friend for lunch. We shared personal and family updates over healthy salads. We shared thoughts and hopes for the RCC now that it has a new Pope.
After our lovely visit, I trotted off to another appointment, to be primped by a couple of my favourite beauticians. They only had a few minutes each to work on me yet the results were above expectations.
I made it back to the vet's office in time to check on Miss kitty, pay the bill and taxi home. I chuckled at the sheet of instructions and the cute little tooth brush they gave me. Yeah, right. Like I'm going to use this on a cat that isn't even mine. I doubt she would agree to sit patiently for a weekly brushing without being sedated.
The fragmented work week was topped off by a lovely Friday night dinner with a friend then proceeding to a Gong Meditation session.
It was my third time attending these relaxing sessions over the past year. Unfortunately, this one was not the best. A young couple thought it would be delightful to bring their energetic four year-old along. He proved to be a distraction for all the up-tight ladies in the room.
What was I thinking during the 30 minute session? Breathe in. Breathe out. Let the sound waves wash over, relax me ... and gently, firmly descend upon the little imp, pinning him down onto the mat. I was NOT experiencing positive thoughts or words. Who the heck thinks they can bring a young child to a meditation session and not expect distractions? Now that was inconsiderate.
The instructor was patient and calmer than necessary through all of this. At the closing of the session, she spoke of vibrations, sounds and the effect of words that come from our mouths.
With bulging eyes and a grinding smile, I nodded in agreement with the concept of Conscious Communication. I just wasn't feeling it. Thank goodness another session participant took the oblivious mother aside and shared her thoughts.
My friend and I didn't have the patience to stick around. We were tired, agitated and just wanted to get home.
The next morning, after a restful sleep, I used any residual, angry energy in a positive manner while taking on some house cleaning. I hummed a happy tune as I scooped out the litter box and scrubbed the powder room.
The cat? She's doing fine. She is once again my furry little friend, an artist's muse who allows me to feed her, scratch her chin and rub her belly.
She also gives off relaxing vibrations with her affectionate purrs.