It is here, on the edge of the dark moon phase of my astrological chart, the eve of my personal new year, I stand with arms held out and palms facing up. Energy has been confused and chaotic. Clarity has been elusive. But now, in my open left hand, rests a copy of the English Patient. A recent, lucky find. Its words and phrases have gently woken the sleeping, poetic rivers of my blood. Inlets have begun flowing in my veins and pooling around the flood gates of my heart. The ebb has waned. The flow is arriving. Gifts are washing up at my feet.
The most welcome gift to suddenly arrive is the gift of patience. It is a many-layered gift. With it comes sanity. Inner peace. Warm solitude. Love. It is the gift I've prayed for and longed for and struggled for. Like the blanket of a lover's body, patience has calmed me and comforted me and fortified me to carry on. It has grounded me and given the inlets terrain to begin their flow. It is the foundation on which my love and my life can build.
Patience allows foibles. It allows fears to come up and move on. It allows each inner season to manifest fully in its own God-directed time. It allows sweet memories of tomatoes and passion to be enough until the time is ripe for more.
Patience cannot be forced. It must be surrendered to. It comes when the struggle is too much to bear and shoulders finally relax. It comes when instincts are acknowledged and heeded. When trust of the self is given. When control is released and Life is placed back in the hands of the Creator Of All Things.
Here on the edge and the eve of my new year, I am gifted with contentment, warmth and patience. With a passionate book and a bowl of grape tomatoes.