6 Patience

Patience is the ability to be with things as they are.

— JOSEPH GOLDSTEIN

The Sixth Parami: Patience

The Pali word khanti, which we translate as patience, is used to designate the sixth parami in Buddhist texts. It means forbearance, the ability to wait or endure without complaint, as well as steadiness and perseverance in performing a task.

Instructions: Short Moments, Many Times

Joseph and I are cruising the racks of a local department store looking for a men’s summer sports coat that can pack easily and also look elegant for al fresco dinners. Joseph is staying with us for a few days before he teaches a retreat at Spirit Rock Meditation Center here in California. Immediately after the retreat he leaves for a ten-day bicycle vacation through the French countryside.

I soon discover it is not an easy task, finding a jacket for Joseph. This is not because Joseph is particular. He enjoys holding up possibilities for me to consider. But no jacket we like fits him properly. His is not an off-the-rack kind of body. Probably he is used to this, but still I am amazed at his patience. He tries on coat after coat. Sometimes we giggle or laugh. Sometimes we find one we really like, but again, the fit is bad, sometimes very bad. Eventually an elderly salesclerk comes by and offers to help. She tells us they can alter any coat we select.

We explain our short time frame, our assumption that alterations would take too long. She assures us this will not be a problem. We take her at her word and show her the coat we like best. She pulls a larger size off the rack and puts it on Joseph, then painstakingly tucks and pins, tucks and pins. Joseph stands patiently as she works. When she has the jacket full of pins, we all agree he looks smashing. I tell him I can see him sitting with a glass of French wine on a stone terrace overlooking a picturesque valley. We are happy as we leave the store. The coat will be ready in ten days, exactly when Joseph’s retreat finishes and a day before he departs.

Ten days later we return. We wait. Finally the coat is located and Joseph slips it on. Generally, the fit is good, with one glaring exception. Two inches of Joseph’s wrists hang below the end of the coat sleeves! After all the alterations, it still looks like he has hastily borrowed a friend’s jacket. Amazingly, Joseph is neither angry nor frustrated. I am both. Joseph turns to me, eyebrows raised, as if I will know what to do. But neither my entreaties to the salesperson nor an offer to pay more succeeds in getting the store to redo the coat in twenty-four hours. So instead I suggest we try taking it to the dry cleaning shop down the street from our house to see if they would be willing to do a quick alteration. I know the owner well, and she chuckles as she looks at Joseph standing there, still patient, still unruffled, still smiling, with his wrists dangling below the sleeves. She assures us she can fix it. “Come back this evening just before we close,” she instructs.

When we return, the coat is perfect. She doesn’t charge him. And Joseph flies off the next morning leaving behind no untidy emotions scattered on the floor of the men’s department. It was not as if he somehow knew it would turn out satisfactorily. He was just totally at ease with however it would turn out, and exceedingly patient throughout the process. Suzuki Roshi, in Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind, says, “The usual translation of the Japanese word nin is ‘patience,’ but perhaps ‘constancy’ is a better word. You must force yourself to be patient, but in constancy there is no particular effort involved — there is only the unchanging ability to accept things as they are.” The image I have of Joseph, standing in that coat, with the same peaceful demeanor through all its incarnations, becomes my visual example of constancy as I begin this month’s integrity work.

Joseph’s Instructions: Working with Patience

What we are practicing here is the mind of letting go. When the mind is tranquil, it is not impatient. Practicing patience leads to tranquility. The Buddha said patience leads to enlightenment.

  1. We begin by tracking the number of times in a day we experience impatience. What type of situations tend to give rise to impatience for you? Make a list.

  2. Next we expand our attention to what mind states might be associated with impatience, such as restlessness, rushing, frustration.

• How are these mind states related to impatience? How and when do they arise?

• Investigate carefully the different nuances and tones of impatience. On a grosser level you could ask the question, “What is my attitude?” On a subtler level, watch for what happens in the mind in the exact moment you ask the question. You may not need an answer, the mind already shifting from the restlessness or aversion as you ask the question. You see that you can move out of restlessness, even if it is only for a moment. And then restlessness returns.

  3. Now we go deeper. Look for how impatience may arise from a choice in your mind, not only because of a specific situation.

• You can decide to get into mental projections . . . or not. Watch closely for them — and remember, it is not necessary to act on them. Imagine you have a remote control and practice changing the channel.

• See if you can notice a pattern of particular things that trigger impatience.

Watch for the subtleties of impatience. For example, watch for impatience during meditation, which really is just a moment of impatience. It is not necessary to act on it.

  4. Finally, it is important to also investigate the different nuances that arise when you are feeling patience, not just impatience.

• Ask yourself, “What else is present?”

• Is it patience or is it resignation? Patience is allowing, enduring — constancy, not resignation.

• Pay attention to those times when you consciously decide to be patient or when you are just naturally patient. Investigate, become familiar with that quality of mind.

• See if you can catch the moment when patience becomes impatience, and when impatience becomes patience.

For three months my fifty-six-year-old mother lay in the hospital in a coma. Every day she was there, I sat beside her. I was young and brokenhearted. I couldn’t imagine, or certainly accept, life without her. I was angry. I pleaded with God. Nothing changed. I had spoken to my mother just before she was wheeled into surgery for a procedure we both understood was risky but might alleviate the unrelenting bone pain she now had from advanced cancer. It might also leave her crippled. I don’t think either of us understood it might leave her comatose.

In my foolishness, on the morning of the procedure, I asked her if she was mad at God. After all, she was a minister. I felt she had earned special dispensation. This disastrous turn of events did not begin to fit into my concept of fairness for one so young and so devoted to a spiritual path, nor did it confirm the presence of a benevolent spirit watching over us.

“No,” she replied, smiling weakly, gently. “I am at peace with God, and with dying. But I am sad I will not see how you all turn out.” Those were her last words to me.

My last words to her while she lived, but now in a coma, were just hours before she died. It had suddenly occurred to me that perhaps, if this were even possible, she was delaying death for us, her children. I am the oldest of six children. Were our moping, hoping, fierce bedside vigils waiting for her to awaken somehow keeping her here? Foolishness? But what if she were holding on until she could see we would be fine? As soon as I had the thought, sobbing and alone with her, I told her I was OK, although it certainly didn’t look that way. I told her we were all going to be OK and that she could go now if that was what she wanted. I said my goodbyes, went back to her house to sleep, and she passed away a couple of hours later.

I’ve always thought it was patience that kept me there, steadfast beside her through those long days. Certainly my love for her kept vigil. But I wonder now, was it more accurately impatience that sat so still? If patience is the ability to be with things as they are, well, I surely wanted things to be other than they were. I have undertaken this work with Joseph to strengthen the mind of letting go. I am very clear how ferocious the grip of wanting mind can sometimes be. I certainly don’t know, and probably don’t believe, that my words helped her to let go. But I can become that young woman in that hospital room and feel again the rawness of my yearning, the fierceness of my holding on to something that was already beyond returning.

What we are practicing here is the mind of letting go.

— JOSEPH GOLDSTEIN

Rushing this process can simply lead to confusion.

— JOSEPH GOLDSTEIN

Working with Patience: Floating Downstream

And so I begin, impatiently, to work on enhancing my patience. The first thing I write in my journal is that I am not as keen on this topic as the last several. I am often impatient. Then I feel impatience arise for my (wrong) view. So I begin again, just settle into observing where and when I am impatient. How many times do I experience impatience? Three arise strongly the first day: waiting in a slow-moving line for a lunch sandwich, sitting in stopped traffic, and someone stopping by my desk to chat while I am working. The next morning I awake with a vague sense that impatience was probably more prevalent than I had noted the previous day.

OK, what other types of situations give rise to impatience? I dig deeper. When I am rushing to dress, eat, pack up to leave on time for the ferry to work, everything else unplanned (sigh) becomes an obstacle. And “obstacle” then instantly gives birth to impatience. At the office, I find that writing down tasks to accomplish for the day can contribute to a mild but increasing impatience as the day progresses and goals set are not being achieved. Again, anything that arises unexpectedly and needs attention is accompanied by impatience. Well, this is certainly not being with things as they are. At noon I have a conference call and in the late afternoon a meeting with staff. Both times I come with an agenda of topics to discuss. Both times participants talk about off-topic issues, change a subject midstream, and chat idly. Of course they do! Yet I can physically feel the impatience as heat arising in my body as I struggle to keep the meeting on track. So what arises with expectations for, visions of, a smooth (different) outcome? Impatience. No surprise there!

As the week progresses, I watch helplessly as I tumble again and again into impatience. It is astounding and eye-opening. I had no idea. The list of triggers for impatience lengthens. Midweek I go to the hospital for my annual mammogram, always with some accompanying anxiety, and I discover still another impatience trigger, as in, “Let’s just get this over with.” Sure enough, impatience blossoms and grows as I am shuffled from one desk to another, one waiting room to another. Handling errands on the way home, I am brusque with a clerk in an electronics store who keeps cutting me off with suggestions that don’t address the problem I am attempting to describe. Ah, an overloaded agenda can lead to impatience. Again, no surprise there.

A sudden glitch on my computer needs fixing. Not this! Not now! Ah, a preference for no glitches in life? May not be serving me well. The desire or expectation for ease — at work, at home, in relationships — toss it into the blender with a time deadline? Recipe for impatience.

This morning I add still another item to the long list I am impatiently keeping: feeling impatient with myself. All morning I have been consciously and deliberately choosing distractions instead of tackling the work spread out on my desk before me. I have made a list of dinners I can prepare easily from food I know I have on hand, saving myself a trip to the grocery store on the way home. Useful. Not what I need to be doing now. I have checked email. And checked again. I have manipulated my calendar. Repeatedly.

I am the source of these disruptions, and they are contributing to . . . you guessed it: a rising sense of impatience. The idea that I am the cause of my own impatience is not a pleasant revelation.

Finally I rise from my desk and practically run down the hall, grabbing my business partner for “a long lunch,” I tell him. He is willing, and lunch stretches into two hours — time, of course, I had planned for many other tasks. I love and adore my partner, the perfect foil to my frustration. Two hours later I return to my desk relaxed and renewed, so full of appreciation for this friendship that I am no longer impatient regarding what will not get done. I feel content; I feel clear-minded and re-enrolled. I understand those two gentle, fun hours were more important than anything else I will accomplish in the rest of the afternoon. And, surprisingly, with an aura of peacefulness I glide through the next two hours and accomplish everything! Reflecting on the day’s events brings a quietness to my body and mind as I drive home. What if I could take that quiet, relaxed, and peaceful mind state into everything I do? Suddenly patience seems a bit more enticing. So this is why the Buddha stressed its importance. It is only my preconceived preferences for something different than what is that is giving rise to these rattled mind states. This is indeed something I can change, through skillful mindfulness and patience.

Ron’s tennis club has a new restaurant and begins to offer live music and dinner on Thursday evenings. We get a group together and go. The restaurant, which has been mostly undiscovered and half empty up to this point, is packed. The band begins playing. Standing room only now. We are happy to have a table and are drinking wine, chatting, listening to the music. It is some time before we realize we have not received menus yet. Then we notice people at other tables are awaiting meals, looking around with some frustration.

Ron wanders outside to watch a tennis match between friends. Periodically he comes in to check. Finally we get menus. Ron tells me what he wants and wanders back outside. No one comes to take our order. I notice that the fitness club manager, with an apron over his jeans, is helping to deliver food. His wife, who is not an employee of the club, is clearing dishes. One of our friends gets up and begins pouring water and lighting candles around the room. Clearly the restaurant was not prepared to handle a crowd this size. Someone finally comes to take our order, then returns, after more waiting, to inform us they have run out of many items we ordered. We arrived at 7:00. It is now almost 9:00. Some of the other patrons leave without eating, and some, it appears, without paying. The room is thick with impatience, and I do not tumble into it, repeatedly re-choosing a different focus, a different response. My efforts feel skillful and also keep my spirits buoyant. The truth is I am enjoying myself and really no longer care whether we are served food or not. Eventually we are served.

That night I was practicing everything I had been learning about patience. I just flowed with the current, allowing what was so to be OK, without lamenting or railing or even wishing otherwise. I certainly had no control over the situation. Rising up and waving my hand, complaining, insisting, frowning were all options I observed around me. I could have chosen to participate in any of these reactions. I felt them arise. I could also join my friends enjoying the excellent magnum of wine one had brought to share. I could talk in depth with several people I don’t often get the chance to sit with. And so I chose to do that instead. I kept checking in and was surprised to discover I was not impatient. I was genuinely enjoying the evening.

What does patience feel like? Like Joseph standing, smiling, with his newly altered coat sleeves still too short. My choice that night felt very clear. I embraced the way things were and was able to simply enjoy an evening with good friends. The world, including our reactions to it, is not as solid as we often perceive. We have a choice — a choice to be unencumbered by any desire for a situation to be other than it is. This parami work may be significantly shaking up long-held, cherished concepts and automatic responses about the way the world is wired up. Each and every moment offers us a new choice: react, respond, or embrace. We do not have to be impatient just because others are or just because a situation is not ideal. We can choose the current with less suffering, paddling skillfully and patiently around the boulders. Can we discover patterns in what triggers our impatience? Yes, I think we can. For me it now feels exquisitely clear and simple. Impatience arises, almost exclusively, from the simple desire for whatever is arising in the current moment to be other than what it is.

It is Saturday, in the last week on patience. I am in the backyard on a crisp, sunny morning. A small table, newspapers, paint cans, brushes, rags, and gloves are spread out on the deck. I found an old table for our kitchen at a flea market. The size is perfect but it needs painting. I have sage green and cream, and visions of painting it to look like an expensive antique table I saw in a shop window. I begin. Birds sing. Sun warms my shoulders. Opera plays on my phone. I am almost giddy with visions of how my little craft project will turn out.

After two hours I have enough paint on the carved base and top to understand it is not going to look like the expensive table I covet. The colors look murky on the rough-hewn wood, even after a coat of primer. The ridges and hollows of the subtle carvings have mostly disappeared under the two coats plus primer. It just looks old, beat up, and dull. I groan. Stand up. Stretch tired muscles.

The birds have stopped singing. The sun is hot now, my neck prickly. I peel off the sweaty plastic painting gloves, wad them up, and throw them down onto paint-splattered newspapers. I turn off the music, roughly, and stand scowling at the table. Clearly the paint was a mistake. This is why you shouldn’t do crafts, the nagging begins. You’re no good at it. And this old cheap table will never look like the one you really want, anyway. Give it up. Enough! Don’t spoil a precious afternoon off work like you have already spoiled the morning. Sigh. I would never speak that way to someone. Sigh. After painstakingly working hard all morning, I realize I now need to strip all this paint off, and do so quickly while it is still wet. No. No. No. But it is so. Now I recall the doubts I did have before beginning, the doubts I just rushed and pushed through. I grab a bag of chips, angrily crunching as I drive to the hardware store for paint remover. Dissatisfaction with what is? Impatience? You bet.

Soon I am back home again, painting gloppy, clearly not-good-to-breathe goop onto the table in a dripping frenzy, then scraping, scraping, scraping all the new paint off with a wedge. I am determined to finish — and committed to never, ever undertaking another craft project. My foul mood stinks worse than the toxic fumes.

But surprisingly, the slow, steady scraping begins to subdue the fury. The afternoon air is cooler now, pleasant. The simple lines and carvings of the table begin to emerge again from under its burden of a bad paint job. It is a sweet table, I remember now. I had thought so when I bought it. It is slow work, but at some point both a decent state of mind, and even a bit of patience, begin to return. I certainly can’t say I am enjoying the process, but as I see this new approach beginning to succeed and that I just have to keep at it, I relax. In retrospect, I don’t think I could ever have kept at it for as long as I did if I had not been focused, these past weeks, on investigating and strengthening patience. Once I was quiet again, patience began to arise quite spontaneously. I just carried on, with a long-enduring mind, and patience carried me, like the tortoise, not the hare, across the finish line. The next morning I oiled the table and . . . it was perfect. It was even better than the table I had coveted in the window. I cannot believe I did that. All it needed was a good coat of oil and a cheery disposition. I think of it now as my table of patience. It is a lovely reminder.

As we reflect on this month, what arises for me is the quality of mind in the moment of letting go. For example, letting go of that first knock of impatience at the door. The more often we can recognize it, the more easily we can allow it to just pass through and away, instead of corralling and feeding it. We don’t own it unless we choose to. What a freeing revelation that is. Impatience is our choice to make — or not — each and every time it arises. That moment may be brief, but it is a solid moment of choice. Patience, not impatience. We can also look and become familiar with what other mind states might accompany impatience and gently see them out the back door.

When we meditate daily, that gap where choice is available becomes more evident, more prevalent, and suspended. With practice, patience becomes more readily available and achievable. We move through the day more pliable, able to switch gears smoothly and maneuver around the obstacles. I have heard this referred to as “bamboo mind” — a mind that is resilient and yielding but returns naturally to center. I also like the image of floating softly downstream, skillfully avoiding any unexpected boulders. During meditation, slowed down and hypervigilant, it is much easier to catch oneself falling into an emotion like impatience. Often we may even feel it physically as the body begins leaning forward ever so slightly. We can continue to watch for this subtle leaning forward into the next moment when not in meditation. Conversations and meetings are especially good for seeing this gentle wanting lean into and become an emotion. When we catch ourselves, we can subtly take a deep breath and settle back; the meeting continues, and most times the impulse subsides.

I am also still actively working with stretching and toning the renunciation muscles, periodically choosing to give up sweets or wine or shopping. After a while the mind really does soften and quiet down. The freedom here is profound. Without the yammering voice of desire, more space for patience and other wholesome responses arises. It is refreshing, this not wanting, as is the patience that slides in naturally to the space left by the departed craving. We see how closely linked one is with the other. Feeding the clamor of wanting mind significantly fuels the fires of impatience. I want something different, something more . . . now!

It also helps to remind ourselves that what we are practicing here is establishing a mind of letting go. It doesn’t help to latch on — “Did you see that nasty boulder? Let me tell you all about it. It reached out and grabbed me, bruised me, frightened me. It had no business being there in my stream!” — because meanwhile we are still moving downstream with more boulders ahead.

There is a delicious freedom that comes from just doing the best we can in each moment, and reflecting back on that when worries surface and take the wheel. Stop. Ease back. Take a breath. Then we can respond instead of reacting to someone’s words or to a troubling or heated situation. This is skillful. This is patience. For me it takes being attentive, recognizing the rising habitual reaction before it takes over and barks out the wrong instructions. Being curious also assists in this for me, as in asking, “What else is here?” or “What else could happen here?” I give myself a second chance to get it right. If we respond instead of hastily reacting, this often opens up an opportunity for new, different outcomes. The other person may also respond thoughtfully instead of immediately reacting.

I admit to a bit of weariness and discouragement at seeing this same root behind all the unskillful behavior with each of the paramis. Enough! Simple, but certainly not always easy, as Joseph reminds us. Impatience, aversion, restlessness: wanting the next moment because surely the next moment will be better than this one! But our naive insistence on a more perfect now is counterproductive and fuels the disheartening feeling that we are not making any progress. The sheer magnitude, and stubborn persistence, of this desire for something different than what is can overwhelm us. It is clearly the captain of our ship when we are asleep at the wheel.

One of the great laws of the Dharma that I find myself often rediscovering is, “If it’s not one thing, it’s another.”

— JOSEPH GOLDSTEIN

Often we are discouraged by the enormity of a task, or the length of a journey, and become impatient with the difficulties we face. We lose faith in ourselves. Patience reminds us that what is in front of us is just this moment, just this step, just this breath. Patience, the Buddha said, leads to nirvana (enlightenment.)

— JOSEPH GOLDSTEIN, ONE DHARMA

Check-In Conversation: Practicing the Mind of Letting Go

For my check-in this month I am calling Joseph midafternoon. I am seated in my living room, gazing down the hill to the bay. It is clear, sunny, and the windows are open to the first warm, fragrant hint of spring.

“Hello,” Joseph says, then coughs.

“Hi, Joseph.” I hear him cough again. “Are you OK?”

“Yes. I have a bit of a cold.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Are you up for this?”

“Yes.”

“OK, but let me know if you need to stop. So I recently mentioned to a woman I work with that I was writing about patience. ‘Oh,’ she told me, ‘hurry up and finish. I need to read it. I need more patience. Now!’” Joseph and I both laugh. “And that was exactly how I was feeling when I began this month.

“As you suggested, I began with a list: waiting in line, sitting in stopped traffic, someone wanting just to chat while I’m working. That was the first day,” I say, chuckling. “Easy, I thought. Then I looked deeper. When I found myself in one of those instances again, like sitting in traffic, I found I could actually watch the impatience arising. There was a space created by my noticing wherein I could choose impatience and just watch myself give in. Or, increasingly, I could think, This is a place where I can get impatient, and then have a moment or two to consider an alternative response before tumbling in.”

“Right. Right.”

“I also wrote down that I am chagrined to see my impatience with Ron’s impatience.” Joseph laughs. “Yeah,” I say, “Just to see it also makes me laugh, lighten up, let go. Other people’s impatience. Or impatience with myself!”

“Right.”

“How does that saying go? She who lives in a glass house should not cast stones.”

“One aspect of impatience to watch for is that of judging mind,” Joseph says after a few quiet moments. “We’re not patient with how others are. We want them to change. The Dalai Lama said, ‘Honor your enemies because your enemies teach you patience.’ It is easy to be patient when everything is going well, but when not, particularly with people, we can recognize that this is a situation that has the potential to teach us about impatience. Use this quote from the Dalai Lama when you are feeling impatient with another, when feeling they are the cause of your impatience. Try instead to take the situation as a gift from them to practice patience! Thank them for the gift of the opportunity to experience patience,” he says, chuckling.

“Oh, I like that. I also watched my expectations factor into the arising of impatience. You know, planning for a business conference call and having expectations for what I wanted to have happen, then noticing myself getting impatient when others talk too much or change the subject.”

“Yes.”

“And the same with going into a store and having a salesperson not listen. Also frustration or anxiety can give rise to impatience for me, as in, ‘Let’s just get this over with!’” I laugh. “And selfishness — that can really cause impatience to arise in me toward others. And of course, the main one I keep seeing as I work with each of the paramis is dissatisfaction, the feeling that I just want something to be different than it is right now. Anything! That certainly creates impatience!”

“Yes,” Joseph chuckles. “One thing that I thought of when you first started speaking, something that I think would be worth exploring when we talk about patience as being with things as they are, is to explore the difference between patience and resignation.”

“Oh. That’s interesting. I definitely could feel that coming up.”

“Because people could misinterpret this to mean you learn to just be with things as they are and then you never work to change anything. And that is quite a different thing. It is important to investigate that difference between patience and being resigned to something, where there is a kind of passivity and giving up. One of the phrases from the Chinese Zen master Xuyun is ‘the long-enduring mind.’ So in that sense patience can really be an ally in whatever project one is doing, whether effecting social change or some other endeavor. Accepting things as they are doesn’t mean just resigning yourself. I think we may not always understand that patience can be a support for action, not only inaction.”

“That is really interesting, Joseph. So you’re patient with standing in a line, say, because you know you’re getting a sandwich,” I laugh, “and so you are not inclined to give up. But also patience can be a support when it is not as obvious as awaiting a sandwich.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “Like in a big undertaking. When something is of value, it doesn’t always unfold the way we would like it to, and so one needs patience. One needs a long-enduring mind.”

“I understand. Patience over time.”

“Suzuki Roshi used this idea in his book. He used the term constancy.”

“Yes, I’ve read that piece he wrote on constancy.”

“So in whatever you’re doing, try exploring that theme. Is this constancy or resignation?”

“‘Resignation’ is a very good word and mind state to watch out for. I can feel how easily one might slip into resignation and give up the effort.”

We are quiet for several moments.

“Are you still feeling OK?” I ask.

“Yes, I am fine for now.”

I tell him about the restaurant evening. “The analogy of floating downstream on a raft came to me, you know? It is peaceful, everything beautiful and calm and then ‘Oh, look out, there’s a boulder! What’s a boulder doing here? There aren’t supposed to be boulders here.’ And you continue floating downstream crashing into one boulder after another, grumbling, complaining, waiting impatiently for unobstructed waters and being surprised every time, when the truth is . . . there are boulders in streams! And so just remembering that there are things that will come up.”

“Exactly.”

“Just understanding this helps me to relax when unexpected, perhaps unpleasant, situations do come up, like with the overbooked restaurant.”

“Right. I think that is really important to see.”

“That analogy works to help strengthen my understanding of patience. It reminds me I can’t expect to just flow along. You know, ‘Row, row, row your boat,’” I begin singing, and Joseph joins me, “gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.” We are laughing.

“Life throws boulders in your path,” I say after a while. “It’s like your mantra, ‘If it’s not one thing, it’s another.’ Which is also saying the same thing.”

“Right.”

“Tell me more about restlessness,” I continue. “In that restaurant, so many people, myself included at times, seemed to be struggling with restlessness, which was fueling, or at least tightly tied in with, impatience. That is a very common and unwelcome mind state for me.”

“Yes. Well, restlessness is not always associated with impatience, but it is quite common. What is most helpful to work with when experiencing restlessness is to focus on the attitude present in the mind at that moment. Because restlessness can be such an unpleasant mind state, if aversion is also arising and is not noticed, we can really spiral down quickly.”

“Oh.” I think about this. “As soon as you said that, I could feel that aversion is definitely mingled in there when I am feeling restless, or immediately thereafter. In fact now I’m thinking a lot of my suffering there is caused by the aversion to the restlessness, and not so much the actual restlessness. Interesting.”

“Exactly.”

“And then I noticed another trigger: rushing. When I’m rushing, everything makes me impatient. No matter what I’m doing. It’s just a mind state wide open to temptation and unskillful response. I feel like an open doorway, you know, ‘Bring it on, throw everything at me you’ve got!’ And I bitch and complain about everything. Amazing. Setting goals for a day? Another huge cause of impatience for me. This is something I routinely do and then find myself becoming increasingly impatient as the day goes on because I never meet all the goals I’ve set. The day slides into anxiety, impatience, and then disappointment.”

Joseph chuckles. “Did you try some days without setting goals?”

I laugh. “Yes, I did! Because of that insight. I guess you could say it’s a work in progress. When I do, I coast more. I forget more. I tried something else new as well, when I got overly frustrated about all the things I felt I needed to do in that one day. This was at home. I did a forty-five-minute meditation, then forty-five minutes tackling whatever needed doing, then another forty-five-minute meditation, and so on. All day.”

“That’s interesting.”

“ Yes. I’ve done it two days, when I was just so caught up in the press of things, and feeling impatient, and lousy, about everything. Because I certainly don’t feel impatient after sitting for forty-five minutes. It allows for more . . .,” I laugh, “I don’t know. Slower breathing for sure. I don’t know if I’m clearer or just more satisfied with what I’ve done, but I actually get more things accomplished than I think I would have while going about in a stew of restless aversion.”

Joseph laughs. “Well, I think the mind is clearer, with the meditation interludes, and when the mind is clearer, it is also more efficient.”

After a couple minutes of silence, and another check-in to confirm he is still OK, I tell Joseph about the afternoon refinishing the table. “But now,” I say, “I’m not clear about something. I know we touched on this already, but I guess it is still lingering. I can struggle here. I will watch impatience arising, often from some dissatisfaction with what is, and your suggestion was to look for that moment when it switches. I don’t know that I catch that. Like with the table, it felt more like a gradual subsiding. Should I watch for a moment as a pathway to more moments like that to follow?”

“Well, yes — but also it is about seeing clearly what it is that just changed. What just happened? You really want to notice, to understand what it is that allows you to go from impatience to patience. So you just observe what happened. Very likely it is the seeing and letting go of some wanting, I would imagine.”

“Ah, I understand now.” I am still thinking of the table. Once I let go of the misguided desire for it to look like something it wasn’t, the impatience receded also.

“A good example of that,” Joseph continues, “is when I’m driving behind a slow driver on New England roads.”

This makes me laugh. “Yes?”

“As long as I’m wanting the situation to be different, as long as I’m wanting them to go faster, I stay impatient. And then, when I finally see what is happening and say,” he starts chuckling, “‘OK, let me not want to go faster or not want them to go faster,’ then there is no impatience.”

“I see, so by just recognizing the desire, even though you are still behind the guy driving slowly . . .”

“Or woman,” he says.

I whoop aloud, and Joseph laughs.

“You sound just like Ron now. OK. Or woman.” I am still laughing. “So then you realize that it’s actually your wanting to go faster, your desire, that is making you impatient, and therefore causing you suffering.”

“Exactly.”

“So then there’s that space where you can choose or not, right?”

“Yes,” he says, chuckling deeply. “You can either go on wanting to go faster and be miserable, or not. People generally just don’t watch their minds closely and explore, ‘OK, what is the cause of the suffering here?’”

I am trying now to hastily complete my check-in with Joseph, concerned about his cold. “I did find once again, as with the other paramis, I was mostly focused on impatience, watching it arise and dissipate, instead of also investigating moments of patience.” I sigh loudly, and Joseph chuckles. “So how do we investigate and practice patience? Do I just watch for when I do feel patient and then ask what else is present?”

“Well, that’s one way. Also, try to see what the difference is when you go from impatience to patience. What happens in that moment?”

“Oh, that transition moment again . . .”

“Yes. If you watch, you can see it. Basically I think it will probably come down to a letting go of some kind of grasping, as we talked about, or aversion. It could also be a moment of aversion to how something is and wanting it to be somehow or in some way other than it is.”

“Oh, yeah. And this is a small thing, but it’s also interesting — I set my goal of not buying anything and after a few months now, the mind is quite different. All that craziness of, Well, let’s just pull in here or browse there. Driving down the road now those thoughts aren’t even arising. Those are also moments of the mind letting go, moments of not struggling with aversion.”

“Yes.”

“I always thought the mind was somewhat my enemy in this regard, but it’s right with the program. It’s like the mind is able to take a breath. ‘Whew!’ it says. ‘Thanks for the break.’ It is fascinating to see and feel how much all that craving really grips and can tire the mind.”

“Yes, exactly. That’s the whole idea, I think, behind monastic life. You just take yourself out of the realm of a lot of wanting. Not that they don’t have their own wantings. But it reduces them a lot I think.”

“I’ve always wondered about that. That was actually a good idea,” I say to Joseph, “your suggesting I continue with my vow of not buying anything.”

He chuckles. “When you say ‘actually’ a good idea, is that in contrast to all the other good ideas we just discussed?”

I laugh. “No, just in contrast to how I normally operate.”

“Continue playing with it. You’ve already seen how it can quiet the mind that might otherwise leap to impatience, or whatever.”

“I will do that. Anything else on patience? I really feel guilty keeping you any longer.”

“Well, I would just do a little more work on distinguishing between patience and resignation, between patience and the sense of constancy that involves continually bringing energy to something. Patience does not mean withdrawing or apathy.” Joseph begins coughing, his voice softer.

“I agree, patience does have a surprisingly energetic, uplifting quality.”

“Yes. Where resignation is clearly the opposite,” he says coughing again.

“And patience is also self-control,” I continue, “like you are now with me, patiently answering my questions when you are clearly not feeling well.” He laughs. I tell him that is enough for now, and he readily agrees.

I write down a couple more insights that occur to me after we hang up. A moment of impatience does not mean the next moment also must be impatient. We can look for the gaps, the holes in the net we are caught in. I used this often that night in the restaurant. I would look around yet again for the waiter, feel impatience arising, turn to my companion to continue the conversation, and impatience would pass on by. We just need to use the reminder gently. Another insight is that impatience is not ours. Impatience is arising due to conditions out of our control, and we can choose not to get all dressed up and join in. It has been extremely helpful to recognize certain key situations that give rise to impatience, and I commit to continue adding to that list. We may feel a habitual impatient reaction arising, but we can choose, in any and every moment, to simply change the channel.

When I was getting the annual mammogram, as I finally entered the examination room, for a third time I was asked for my date of birth.

“Wow,” I exclaimed after giving it to the technician, my nervousness giving rise to chattiness, “I appreciate how careful you guys are. You’re the third person to ask me for my birthdate.”

As she busied herself getting the machine ready, she laughed. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” she said, “the things I see here. I can go out to the waiting area and ask, ‘Mrs Smith?’ And three women will stand up. ‘Are you Mrs. Smith?’ I will ask one. And she will say, ‘No,’ and sit down.” We laughed. “No one wants to be here,” she told me. “In their anxiousness to be out of here, they stand up when any name is called.”

I laughed, but as she continued to get everything ready, I thought, Well, don’t we often go through life like that? Anxious to be done with something unpleasant, preoccupied with worry and anxiety, we can be pretty unconscious. If someone is not watching out for us, as this woman was, we can do some serious harm to ourselves.

The technician then asked me what I do. I understood the questions, the talk, were to help me relax, and it was working. I said that I had begun writing a book about creating a life of integrity.

“Well, that’s timely,” she said. “Everyone seems so preoccupied, so selfish these days.”

I considered this, surprised to hear her say it: the connection between integrity and living less selfishly. I guess that is why the first parami is generosity. I felt a sudden burst of enthusiasm for this work we’ve been doing.

“You have certainly chosen a livelihood of service to others, an unselfish path,” I said.

“Thank you,” she said, pausing to look closely at me. “Yes, I feel I have helped save many lives.” And she said this with pride, kindness shining. Then, with much patience, she guided me gently through the procedures, and with a matched and sterling patience, I endured the discomfort.

As the month of patience comes to its conclusion, I can’t help thinking that patience just might be the most important step on this path to integrity. I have felt the same at the conclusion of each of the last five months. And you?

Freedom is not simply doing what we want when we want. That is addiction. Freedom is the ability to choose wisely.

— JOSEPH GOLDSTEIN