My first (and loudest) experience of receiving a message was the day I had been persuaded to go to the college chapel service one Sunday. A little background is required here; I spent a mostly happy time at a convent school until I was 14, and it gave me a rather skewed view of religion. I was cured of religion. It damaged my faith somewhat too (they are two separate entities in my book), but it turned out to be more resilient than I realised. Going to chapel on this Sunday was not quite a “kicking and screaming” occasion, but I felt it was important to go, regardless of how resistant I felt.
Long story short, the minister raised his head (mid-contemplation), looked me straight in the eye, and said, somewhat loudly I thought, “BE PATIENT”.
Simple as that. Be patient.
Ha! I have spent most of my life learning patience. I get an idea and I like to run with it. I have an inspiration to make something, I rush out, buy the materials I need, start it, then run out of steam. Another UFO for the box.
And this week? This week I’ve had a huge breakthrough with regards to the direction I would like to take; I’m buzzing with ideas of the concept (it is definitely at the “concept” stage), and unusually for me, I’m not shouting it from the rooftops nor galloping ahead. I haven’t had enough experience of the not-shouting thing to say whether my retrospection can be used as an indicator that I’m on track, and the converse, that shouting is just me being impatient.
Ordinarily, I would be frantically writing down my ideas and becoming completely obsessed with the idea, but circumstances are that I can’t due to other commitments. For me, this is a Great Thing. A different thing, but a Great Thing.
Because I will have the space to listen to the whispers before I get too engrossed. You see, when the ideas start to flow, nothing else can get in. There is nothing else. Only ideas. That is the curse and the blessing of being a Creator. Once the spark of inspiration has shown itself, it tends to catch fire! By avoiding getting caught up in the detail, I will have the luxury (and perhaps, novelty) of stepping slightly back from it.
Is this where patience lies? In the stepping back and observing? Have I maybe framed “patience” as an effort, as something unachievable for me as I want to rush in and get shit done? When instead all that patience is is taking time to listen to the whispers?