Upon the death of a dear friend, I began thinking about the nature of life and death. Death brings my feet back to earth. My mom has often accused me of having my head in the clouds, and I readily admit it.

But losing my friend brought me crashing back down. I’ll admit that I’ve been a bit morbid over the past few weeks, since her passing, because it has come to my attention that we are all going to die. There is no other way out of here.

During the celebration of life for my friend, several people spoke of her generosity, her love of animals, her quirky nature. Many kind things were spoken then, and I thought what a beautiful tribute.

But wouldn’t it be better if we could share those kind thoughts with our friends before they die? Wouldn’t it be better to tell our loved ones how much we appreciate them, while they are still living?

Kind words are like a soothing balm to the soul. No matter what a person is going through, the kind words of friends and loved ones can calm the fires of rage, anger, or fear.

So why wait? I have said, on numerous occasions, that I plan to live to 111. I realize that by then, many of my friends and family will likely be gone. They will have gone on before me, to whatever awaits our physical death.

By then, I wonder who will eulogize me. I wonder who will be present to remember the remarkable life of an old woman, who outlived those who could speak of her life. So, the way I see it, I have two choices. I can live a remarkable life for the following 64 1/3 years, and make sure to make an impression on everyone I meet, hoping that someone will live long enough to remember me.

That is Plan B. That plan involves a lot of work, a lot of community involvement, and making friends of all ages. While that does seem like a fun way to progress through life, it also seems like a lot of work. Of course, I plan to do it anyway. Far be it from me to shy away from hard work and perseverance.

But, I have a better plan. My go to plan is to throw a big party. I’m not waiting until I’m dead to have a party. I’m going to have a party and invite all of my friends, and we will gather and talk about the beauty of life, the beauty of love and friendship. I plan to have that party when I am 55. I’m going to call it my “halfway there” party.

I plan to invite everyone I have ever known, to celebrate the gift of their presence in my life. I want to celebrate while I am still alive and cognizant. I want to thank people for their kindnesses and love, which have buoyed me through my life.

And my point, in all of this, is lets not wait. Let’s not wait to tell the people in our lives how much they mean, how much they bring, and how much they give us.

Tell them while there is still time. Once your friends are gone, it becomes too late to tell them how much you cherish them.

Of course, once people pass on, we can still speak of their goodness and kindness. It brings us together, it unites us when we face death, and it helps us heal from loss.

But so much better, is the idea of telling people of their impact and influence while it can help them.

It is never too late to tell someone how much they mean to you. If you don’t feel like saying it, then write them a note. You could even send an email. But don’t let the kind words go unspoken. Today is the perfect day to tell someone how much they mean.

Namaste, friends

I learn a lot from my kids, and sometimes if I’m lucky, they even learn a thing or two from me.

Recently, during a discussion with my 16-year-old daughter, I said, “Well, if I had my druthers, I’d rather you not.”

She looked at me skeptically, with the scorn and derision that seems second nature to teenagers.

“What does that even mean? I think you’re just making up words so I can’t do what I want.”

I confess. I do make up words. Sometimes I try to slip them into my columns, but Kae, the stalwart copy editor of the Uinta County Herald, never fails to find and delete them. Sometimes she looks at me as if I’m crazy. And sometimes she smiles sadly, shaking her head, as if talking to a small child.

But I digress. I explained the phrase “If I had my druthers” to my children, who still do not believe it is real. I guess my penchant for using fake words has tainted their view of me.

Technically, to have one’s druthers means to have ones own preference. It is a shortened version of the phrase “I’d rather,” and is not widely used outside of the United States. It’s a colloquialism to our part of the world. When I explained this to my young ‘uns, they all rolled their eyes, and wondered why a person wouldn’t just say, “I would rather,” and save all the confusion.

Upon further study and investigation, I discovered another meaning to druthers: the power or opportunity to choose.

It occurred to me then, that we can all have our druthers. We all have an opinion about how we would like things to be. Realistically, we can have our own preference, if we are willing to make the sacrifices necessary to achieve those things.

You can have your druthers, if you really want to.

Each one of us has the power and the opportunity to choose exactly how we want our life. Many of us, however, relinquish this power in order to embrace the victim mentality so prevalent in our culture. Rather than making our own choices and taking responsibility, we sit idly by, hating our lives and blaming someone else.

Oftentimes, blaming seems easier than responsibility. Victimhood feels more comfortable than choice. It’s easier to complain about things we don’t like, than to step up and make changes.

The good news is you do have the power and opportunity to choose. You can choose where to work, who to hang out with, where and what to eat, whether to exercise, where to live. The list goes on and on, but the truth is, you have complete choice over every aspect of your life.

I can hear some of you now saying, “That’s not true. I don’t have any choices. I don’t get to choose….” Well, unless you are a minor child, the truth is that you do have a choice.

You might not like the work or the responsibility involved in making a different choice, but you do have a choice. We are not victims of our life. We are authors of our destiny.

Today, you can choose to live exactly as you choose. You can choose freedom over bondage, peace over anger, and happiness over sorrow. You have the power and the opportunity to choose, in each moment, exactly what your life looks like.

If you don’t like the outcome, you are free to choose again. Remember, the effects of a decision stay in place until the decision is changed. If something doesn’t work for you, then you can change it.

Whatever you face today, remember that you can choose again. You are not a victim of your life. You are the creator of your life.

Namaste, friends

In the aftermath of chaos and holiday madness, I lost my phone. It wasn’t such a bad thing, really. I spent all of Christmas Day enjoying peace and quiet, unable to text and call. I even found time to take a nap.

As we began to filter through empty stockings, piles of paper and the remnants of Christmas, I discovered my forgotten phone, buried under the cheery rubble.

It was so nice not having it, I decided on the following day to just put the phone away.

Most of us are attached to our stuff. Our phones are always nearby. Our computers are nearby, ready to answer emails, check Facebook, and immerse us in online escapism.

Besides the electronic madness that controls our daily lives, we are surrounded by stuff. We are buried by more stuff than we can ever use in our lifetime, and our children will suffer after our passing, as they sort through all the stuff, wondering why we kept so much.

I was caring recently for a dear friend who has become quite ill. While sitting by her side, holding her hand, massaging her feet and reassuring her, I noticed that she was surrounded by stuff. Piles and piles of clothes, papers, knick-knacks and tchotchke. It was overwhelming, to think about her imminent passing and the responsibility of wading through all of that stuff.

When I got home after one particularly stressful day, I began sorting through my file drawers. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but I decided to look through every single piece of paper, and honestly assess the value and necessity of each.

Although I’m not a hoarder, I tend to hold on to special notes from people I love, as well as clippings and pictures from magazines. After a couple of hours, I was astonished at the pile of papers headed to the recycle bin. When I honestly looked at all those papers, it turned out that most of them were not essential to my daily life. Most of them had no real purpose, other than to keep my file cabinets brimming with paper.

With a proud sense of accomplishment, I closed the mostly empty file drawers and wondered for a moment why I need such a large file cabinet anyway. Now that it’s empty, it seems redundant. However, it does make a good television stand.

Although it was getting late, I was energized by all that purging and I began cleaning out my drawers.

It is amazing, how attached we can become to things like clothes. I had a closet full of clothes of a variety of different sizes. Some are too small, waiting in vain for me to lose just enough weight. Some are way too big, just in case I get fat. Some are from long ago, with emotional baggage attached. I began yanking clothes out of drawers, off of hangers and throwing them into a bag with reckless abandon.

It was freeing, to release so much stuff. Now, when I walk through the house, one eye is on what I can get rid of next.

I don’t want to die at 111, surrounded by junk. I want to be surrounded by people who love me. Most of the stuff we accumulate and refuse to part with has some emotional significance to us, but to no one else.

Instead of filling our lives with more and more stuff, perhaps we should acquire experiences. We don’t need more stuff. What we need is more love, more passion and more fun. When we fill our lives with experience, our need to be surrounded by belongings will diminish.

Namaste, friends

A lot of people suggest that the holidays have become too commercialized. They complain, as they walk down the crowded aisles of the local department store, talking on their cell phones, and filling their carts with unnecessary piles of stuff.

They complain as they turn up the television and shush their children. They complain on Facebook about how no one remembers the reason for the season.

Honestly, if you gathered a room full of people, you would likely be hard pressed to get them to agree on the actual reason for the season, because it is different for everyone.

For some, it is a religious holiday; a celebration to acknowledge the birth of a savior.

For others, it is the beginning of the winter solstice; the beginning of winter, starting with the shortest day of the year.

For others, it is a celebration of light and the miracles of God; a time when lamps burned miraculously.

For others, it is a time to share gifts with those you love, as an expression of your love, friendship and devotion.

Regardless of your personal reason behind celebrating the Christmas or holiday season, there are things you can do to make this time of year more meaningful and more personal.

Often times, people confuse spending extraordinary amounts of money with a meaningful experience. The truth is that you don’t have to spend any money to enjoy the fullness of the holiday season.

Think about the people closest to you. That list might include your partner, your children, family and friends. Now, think about what you like best about them and what you like to do with them. What do they enjoy doing? Put some thought into the important people in your life. What do they really like?

How can you invest in the people closest to you, without spending any money?

My son loves to play with Legos. We have thousands of them, strung from one end of the house to the other. I have learned to walk with a light step, lest I should stumble in the dark over an intricate Lego helicopter. I once destroyed a Lego McDonalds with one ill-placed step in the dark hallway.

Although I’m sure my son would love me to buy him more Legos for Christmas, there are other ways I can pour into his life. I could spend some time on the floor, actually playing with him. I could stop and listen to him when he speaks, and look directly at him, rather than continuing to type, as if my work is more important than what he has to say.

To fully experience the holidays, I could spend some time with my teen-aged daughters, truly listening to what they are going through, instead of nodding absent-mindedly while I make dinner.

I could actually involve the kids in the meal making process, rather than getting irritated with them as I make dinner and wash the dishes for the millionth time.

With my friends, I could offer support and encouragement over a cup of hot tea. It only takes a moment to truly listen to someone. 

Life is what you make of it, and that includes the Christmas season. If you are distracted and irritated in your life, chances are you will be distracted and irritated during the holidays.

When you take a moment to be fully present for yourself and those around you, you give the best present of all. You become part of the experience. You get to feel what is happening now. You get to release stress, irritation and judgment and just enjoy whatever moment you are in.

Christmas is the perfect time to remind yourself to stay here now. Breathe deeply of the cold, crisp air. Appreciate the deep clear blue sky. Don’t fret about things. Instead, invest in the people around you and immerse yourself in the holiday experience.

Namaste, friends

A turkey skeleton is lurking in my refrigerator. It is a stark reminder of the recent Thanksgiving holiday. The carcass begs to be cooked into a delicious broth and adorned with homemade noodles.

But everyone in my house has moved on. They were done with Thanksgiving and turkey by early Friday morning. Honestly, by the time we finished the turkey on Thursday, my kids were ready to go shopping.

Although I don’t like the idea of shopping on Thursday or Friday of Thanksgiving, it was impossible to keep my kids, along with hundreds (thousands, millions) of others, out of Wal-Mart on Thursday evening.

Who would have guessed that a simple holiday could be turned into madness and mayhem with a frenzy of early Christmas activity? It’s as if people have completely bypassed the Thanksgiving holiday in favor of one more day of potential savings on a bunch of stuff that no one needs.

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. It is simple. Family, food, and football: what else does one need to really celebrate a holiday? When I was in the fourth grade, I won a school-wide poetry contest for my poem about Thanksgiving:

“What about that poor old turkey, being stuffed?

Don’t you think he’s had enough?

Poor old thing needs some rest,

So he can look his very best.”

Lame, I know, but for a fourth grader, I think that’s pretty good. Besides, I wanted to celebrate my favorite holiday. I’ve always loved getting together with my family, even though the outcome is always unpredictable.

You never know who will drop the pie and splatter pumpkin all over grandma’s kitchen. You could never guess which relative will pass out in front of the TV, from too much spiked eggnog. It’s impossible to tell which relatives will not speak for the entire next year, following an argument about stuffing.  Yes, it’s definitely my favorite holiday, with all that family togetherness.

Somehow, though, Thanksgiving has taken a back seat to Christmas. It’s not as though Thanksgiving ever took a front seat. It’s always been the humble holiday, sandwiched between the two best kid-holidays ever. Halloween, with costumes, candy and late night wandering is a perennial favorite for kids and adults. And Christmas. What holiday could ever compare with Christmas? Presents, Santa Claus, food, decorations; these things make Christmas the ultimate in celebrations. And somewhere, nearly forgotten like the middle child of a large family, sits Thanksgiving. There isn’t much to say about Thanksgiving, other than people eat a lot of food. And many of us watch a lot of football.

Besides the food, family and football, though, what is the purpose of Thanksgiving? It has become the kick-off to the holiday shopping season, and retailers are capitalizing on that by opening earlier and earlier, until they interrupt holiday dinner with shopping madness.

Underneath all the pre-Christmas preparations, it is easy to forget why we have a Thanksgiving feast. Remember the history lessons about the pilgrims and the Indians? Remember how two groups of people came together to celebrate the bounty of the earth, to put aside their differences and share a meal? Those are the things we think about when we think about Thanksgiving.

Giving thanks. That is the true reason we celebrate Thanksgiving, and perhaps it is a good idea to take a moment to be thankful before the glutinous spending that will happen in December.

Let us pause, as December unfolds, to remember those things for which we are truly thankful.

Every life is different, every circumstance is different, and every family is different, but there are still things we can find to be grateful for every day. Take a moment each morning to focus on something you are thankful for, even if it seems tiny and insignificant.

Regardless of who your family is, or who your friends are, there are people on this earth who love you. You are not alone, and you are not forgotten. You are valuable to someone, just as people are valuable to you, and for that, we can each be thankful.

Ease into the holiday madness slowly, and try to remember to give thanks in all things. It will make help you appreciate the blessings you have today, and perhaps fill a void that you might otherwise seek to fill with stuff.

Namaste, friends

The pig experience came to an exhilarating close last week, when my three youngest children finally showed and sold their pigs.

Back in the spring, we decided to raise pigs for 4-H. You may remember my recounting Spider Pig’s journey to the farm, in the back of my Subaru. It turns out, pigs don’t travel well in cars.

After a long summer of feeding, weighing, and worming pigs, fair week finally arrived.

I thought I knew a lot about pigs, up to that point, but fair week taught me how much I still don’t know.

It started with getting the pigs back to the fair grounds. When they were cute little 97-pound piglets, they could be easily hefted into the trailer, for transport to the farm.

By last week, the pigs were each pushing the 300 pound weight limit. Loading them onto the trailer was no easy task. When a 300-pound pig charges at a 97-pound girl, if she’s learned anything at all over the summer, she jumps out of the way.

My good-natured friend cheerfully herded the pigs toward the trailer, and the kids began closing in on the pigs, trying to coax them into the trailer. As one pig reluctantly climbed the ramp, another pig in the trailer saw his chance to escape. He bolted between legs, knocked down children and fled to the safety of the mud lake at the far edge of the pen. The pigs learned early on that no children would venture into the muddy morass. It was a refuge of cool water for the pigs whenever we came to weigh the pigs. Finally, after more pigs had escaped than were on the trailer, someone grabbed a few scraps of bread. The food tempted the pigs  back onto the trailer.

Once the pigs were at the fairgrounds, they had to be bathed and shaved. Once again, I found myself asking, “Who knew?”

 Someone seriously suggested we bathe the pigs in buttermilk, to soften their skin.

Pigs enjoy being bathed and shaved less than they enjoy being herded onto a trailer. After a lot of screaming, by children and pigs, the animals were clean and ready to be judged. By the time it was over, everyone was exhausted. And this was only day one.

Judgment day came on Tuesday. As I pulled into the parking lot, Gunnar bolted out to the Jeep.

“Mom! Come quick! Sissy is crying,” and with that, he ran off, expecting me to follow.

Upon entering the swine barn, I encountered a sobbing teenaged daughter, who had apparently tripped over her pig, Bill, and had chipped her tooth on the stock fence.

I wrapped my arms around Samantha and tried to soothe her crying. She was on deck to show her pig, and her agitation was clearly upsetting Bill.

I stroked her hair, “Calm down. Take a deep breath. You’re upsetting the pig.”

I chuckled as I heard myself say that. Upset the pig? It reminded me of an old saying, “Never try to teach a pig to sing. You waste your time and you upset the pig.” Although we were not trying to teach Bill to sing, he was growing more and more agitated with the chaos around him.

 Samantha showed me her tooth, broken neatly in half at a sharp angle. I stifled a surprised gasp. It was awful. I could see why she was crying so hard.

When the judges called her name, she took a deep breath, swallowed the remainder of her tears, and marched Bill down the walkway to the show ring.

I felt a lump rise in my throat as I watched my daughter put on a brave smile and lead her pig around the ring. What a great kid.

At the end of the day, Samantha and Bill placed third overall, out of a couple hundred pigs, and Samantha learned a valuable lesson about pulling your stuff together in the middle of a crisis and doing your best.

By the time Friday rolled around, the kids and the pigs were all sick of the fairgrounds. The air was electric with anticipation when the stock show began.

Chickens. Rabbits. Lambs. Steer. Pigs. Finally, the Demander kids headed into the sale ring, near the end of the auction. Having never participated before, we still had a few lessons to learn.

Apparently, the kids are supposed to present a gift to the buyers of their livestock. Who knew? Let me just say, to Wendell Fraughton, Don Pedro, and Alta Construction, “Your gifts are on their way. And thank-you.”

Without a lot of further ado, the pigs were sold. The kids were happy until Saturday, when they went to clean up the remnants of the project.

There, alone, stood Bill.

Samantha ran to her pig, wondering if he had been forgotten.

We headed to the fair office, and were reassured that Bill’s buyer would certainly be back, likely soon, to retrieve his pig.

As we headed out to the barn, Don Pedro pulled in to claim his pig.

Hating good-byes, Samantha left so she wouldn’t have to see Bill, loaded into one more trailer, for one more trip away from the fair grounds.

We laughed. We cried. We raised some pigs. When it was all said and done, there were some lessons that I’d like to pass on for all of you:

Never, ever, ever give a pig a ride in your car.

Pigs, like the rest of us, enjoy a kind word and a good snack.

Nothing beats a good back scratch.

You can always do your best, even when things around you are falling apart.

Namaste, friends.

I often wonder if my kids ever listen to what I say. My lengthy lectures are usually met with rolled eyes. My angry outbursts bring glares of disapproval. When I try to share life lessons, I find my kids dozing in the back seat, lolled to a peaceful nap by the droning of my voice.

Occasionally, however, I am surprised by the wisdom of my children. In a fit of sorrow, as I cried inconsolably, my daughter patted my back and said, “Don’t worry mom, everything always works out.”

Although I continued crying, I was touched to hear my own words coming back to haunt me. Funny, they seem so much more conciliatory when I’m saying them, rather than receiving them.

My son recently began moving his Lego’s to our garage attic. He had previously used a small empty room in our basement for his Lego City, but found the confines of the room to be too containing. Often I would find myself tripping in the dark over helicopters, fire trucks and villains forgotten in the hallway.

During a momentary epiphany, I realized that we have an entire attic over our garage, mostly unused. There are a few boxes of Christmas decorations and some camping gear, but the bulk of space sits unused.

The older girls decided to make a craft room out of part of the attic, and hauled up tables, stickers, and craft supplies of all sorts. I think they finally realized that I am no help when it comes to things of a crafty nature, so they decided to find a place where I wouldn’t constantly hover over them, asking irrelevant “mom” questions.

Gunnar decided to recreate his Lego City in the attic, and to help him out, I swept all the Lego’s into a box. Much to Gunnar’s dismay, not all of his creations survived the sweeping.

I admit to being a little overly zealous in my endeavor. I am thrilled to get the Lego’s out of the hallway. I may have swept them just a little more vigorously than necessary. Some of the Lego creations may have come apart as I tossed them carelessly into the box. I’m not sure that had anything to do with it, but I am admitting to my part in the destruction of Lego City.

When Gunnar discovered his millions of Lego’s thrown haplessly into a plastic storage bin, he was less than enthusiastic about my help. He stormed out to the garage, insisting that he could get the work done himself.

About an hour later, he came into the kitchen, looking somewhat abashed.

He told me he was pretty mad when he found all his stuff broken. And he tried to devise a pulley system to pull the enormous box of toys up the attic stairs. As he hoisted the box overhead, he watched in alarm as it began to slant. Then, the box crashed to the ground, thousands of Lego’s covering the garage floor.

Gunnar said, “I was so mad when all my stuff broke. Then I thought that everything happens for a reason. So I figured I could make a bigger and better Lego City in the garage.”

With that, he happily bounded back out to the garage to begin the daunting task of sweeping up thousands of Lego’s.

I stood in wonder at the brief conversation. My eleven-year old son just repeated and applied something I preach to my kids every day. And he applied it much more quickly and cheerfully than I ever have.

Everything does happen for a reason. Whether it’s Lego’s crashing to the ground, a car breaking down, or your sweetheart breaking your heart. It is a waste of time to ask ‘why’ something happens. Instead, like Gunnar, ask yourself what you are going to create out of the situation.

You can’t control everything that happens in life. What you can control is your own response to situations. Your response is your responsibility. What can you make of the things that life throws your way?

Try looking for opportunity in the situations facing you. You might just find yourself with the biggest and best Lego City ever created.

Namaste, friends.

I used to love Bugs Bunny. One of my favorites was Marvin the Martian. He had an Acme Ray Gun, with which he would vaporize Daffy Duck. A classic line from Marvin the Martian, “Resistance is futile, earthling.”

During Tuesday’s snowstorm, I thought of those words often. I dressed for spring on Tuesday, in sandals and a skirt. Wrong outfit, wrong day.

Of course, I was too busy to run home and change as the day grew colder and the drizzle turned to snow. I decided to accept the weather and be thankful for the moisture. Resistance to the weather, or to just about anything else, is futile.

It never ceases to amaze me, how people will complain about things that cannot be changed, such as the weather.

Complaining never changed anything for the better. In fact, it never changed anything at all. It is futile to resist those things we can’t change. I would include the weather in that category, as well as the past, other people, and dogs.

You can’t change anything by complaining, and resisting what you can’t change is a waste of time and energy.

I had a friend who used to say, “You can’t teach a pig to sing. You only waste your time and upset the pig.” Complaining about the weather, fretting over the past, or trying to change someone else’s behavior is a lot like trying to teach a pig to sing. You don’t achieve your goal, and you usually irritate somebody.

Why resist things? Life is too short to be frustrated and angry over things that can’t be changed. When I hear people griping about the weather, I wonder what they think it could possibly accomplish. Yes, it is snowing. Yes, it is cold. Yes, we all wish summer would hurry up and get here. Will complaining about the cold make the weather any warmer? Will Mother Nature suddenly say, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize all of you Evanston residents were expecting sunshine and blue skies. Let me fix that.”

No. She will not bend to our will.

Rather than resist what is, I have found it is much easier to accept circumstances and make the best of them. Surrender to what is, rather than resist with futility.

Surrendering has such a negative connotation. It brings to mind weakness, giving up and giving in. In fact, I would argue that the opposite is true. It takes determination and strength to accept the things we cannot change. It takes character to submit our will to something greater. It takes humility and grace to be thankful for the snow, when you really wish to see the sun.

Most of our suffering has its roots in resistance. We suffer as we agonize over mistakes, misspoken words, and things we have done wrong. You can’t change the past. It has already happened. You can accept the past and move on, working to correct the mistakes of yesterday.

We suffer as we worry about what will happen tomorrow. We have no control over tomorrow. Of course, you can make plans, but as the good book says, we are not guaranteed tomorrow. It is foolish to say, “Tomorrow I will do this, and tomorrow I will do that.” We don’t know what will happen tomorrow. Worrying about it, resisting internally, will not change a moment. 

Imagine my surprise when I woke up, only to discover that life is not a bed of roses. Life is more like a messy teenager who spends the night, steals all the covers and throws them on the floor when she gets too hot.

At least, that is what my life is like. Just when I think I’ve got everything figured out and think it’s smooth sailing ahead, suddenly a tempest breaks, the sails collapse and I am dead in the water, overcome by the enormity of the waves.

Okay. I realize in retrospect that the description seems a little overdone. It’s not all doom and gloom from where I sit, but sometimes life is hard.

We all have those moments when we feel like we are down and getting kicked in the teeth. Who among us has not felt overcome by the enormity of life?

And for me the question is, how do we pick ourselves up and carry on? Where does the patience to persevere through life’s trials come from, and how do we tap into that when we have reached our last nerve?

I remember standing in line at a “fast” food restaurant back when my children were small. I was very pregnant. And by that, I mean I was as large as a house. Holding a crying toddler on one hip, taking orders from my teen-aged kids on either side, and balancing as another crying child tugged on my leg, I prayed for patience. Impatient people glared all around me, not only because of the swirl of noise encompassing me, but also because of the delay, as grim-faced cashiers seemed to take extra long to prepare food, and the orders seemed extra complicated.

It was in that instant of chaos, that I had an epiphany.

We do not magically receive patience. It is in those moments of utter pandemonium, deep depression, or sheer desperation that we have a choice. We can choose to respond to our circumstances with criticism, anger and outrage, or we can choose patience.

This applies to myriad life circumstances, not just standing in line, surrounded by screaming children. Frustration happens every day. Coworkers can be annoying (except, of course, my own coworkers, who exhibit unusual patience with my idiosyncrasies). Traffic lights, bad drivers, and icy roads can irritate. In any given day, most of us are faced with a litany of challenges to our peace of mind.

It is in these moments, when we are tempted to be least patient, that our request for patience is actually answered. We are patient because we choose to be. We endure because we choose to continue putting one foot ahead of the other. We persevere through trials because that is what we choose to do.

It is not easy to choose patience, but it is still a decision you can make consciously. When faced with those things that cause you to grind your teeth, try taking a deep breath. You don’t have to get all ‘Zen’, as I do, but you can breathe deeply. And just for a moment, try to see things differently.

Those kids aren’t screaming just to annoy you. Unless they are, in which case, they are still screaming and you can still practice patience. Your coworker isn’t chewing ice just to be irritating, maybe she feels tense and chewing ice helps her feel less stressed. The traffic didn’t change deliberately to make you late.

None of what’s happening around you has anything to do with you. And when you accept that things happen regardless of your peace of mind, you can choose to be patient.

We can all be patient. We can all persevere. We can all endure. What it takes is a decision, followed by one step.

One step at a time, we will all get through to the end.

Namaste, friends