Get impatient with yourself

For a few short years somewhere in the maze of the past, I had become overly forgiving and patient with myself; a bit too kind, now that I observe in hindsight. I began to sweep under the rug my inability to rise above the clutter. I turned a shade too patient of personal lapses that further undermined my right to be extremely special, excellent in all my endeavors and exemplary in my expectations of myself. 

A few tough conversations and not-so-happy events shook me up, wounded my pride and questioned my identity – all in good measure and in the right places. Good for me. An occasional jolt needs to be scheduled, I feel.  

After fumbling, stumbling, and finally deciding to get a grip, I had this startling discovery. Patience turns vile beyond reasonable limits. To be patient with our inertia and inaction, to ignore the evolution and emergence of our best, most authentic and stunningly beautiful self is not a virtue.  Ancient wisdom considers ‘too much of a good thing’ a definite bad thing. Much like divinely sweet honey taken in excess undermines its own medicinal value. To put up with our unhappy, unproductive, and uninspiring lives is poison to our minds, and stifles us at the very core of who we are. More importantly, patience with the wrong things and wrong people in our life silences who we can become! 

I find myself greatly convinced to go with this theory of mine. How can such oversight and forgiveness – of being patient when we need to be impatient – lead to any good? That which is forgiven too quickly, is forgotten even faster. What of the treasured lessons then? How else do we carve those irreplaceable footnotes, scribbles and underlines that pepper the pages of our life’s book?

Don’t take me amiss. I am a patient person when I deal with those that demand the most from me, but I am frequently impatient when I demand most of myself. Like many worthwhile pursuits in life, this one’s a paradox as well.

Thomas Fuller, a seventeenth century English churchman and historian said, ‘Abused patience turns to fury.’

Next time a glimmer of impatience with your unmoving life makes you stand up as if ready for action, don’t shake your head and ridicule your resolve. Don’t slump back in your chair. If impatience makes you want to quit your job as you pass one more day in anonymity, don’t ignore the urge. Something deep inside, a voice that knows better is trying to be heard above the daily clutter. 

Let’s not be patient and ignore that voice within, because most likely, it is wearing thin on patience with us. Instead, indulge in the virtue of impatience. Nurture your own haste to see yourself in your grandest avatar yet. And watch life unfold in many surprising shades of a new you.

The virtue of failure

I can never forget two months of painful unemployment right after my MBA. Made more excruciating by friends finding jobs. I guess, humiliation gets magnified under the fragile lens of youth. I fretted for a longish time until my mind was exhausted. Then it happened - my spirit nudged me and I was reminded that I was worth more than what I was reduced to. The right door was yet to open, no wonder the wrong ones kept opening - tempting me to fail and therefore, see with clarity that which only failure can reveal. And thankfully, see I did.

This happens to me often. As if God has a time table for all of us, and the days we ought to fail are already marked like test days in school for subjects we are bad at. And off we go skidding on the road to failure. Good thing someone has a system for us to fail or constant success would prove disastrous.

I completely believe, for years now, that desperation brings out our best. And clarity strikes in the depths of darkness. We work the hardest when hope is all we got. Will you not agree with me that darkness makes visible that which light is unwilling to uncover? Success is dazzling, it has a way of obscuring what lies beneath. And happiness has little use for questions. But the nature of failure is different. It is hard and unbending. And under its stern gaze we ask questions which never would have crossed our minds otherwise.

Failure is a definite virtue. Or maybe, the value of failure lies in leading us to virtue. Or how else would we have tested our relationship, with ourselves and others. Why would we ever ask tough questions that need asking. And why would we take action even when it might be the hardest thing to do. All of this is not the domain of success, failure on the other hand, is a specialist.

This is true for me as a writer, too. I write all the wrong lines before I know which ought to be the right ones. By not writing well, I generally reach my goal of writing well.

Life's like that also. We need love as much as we do a hard blow once in a while. Just to get us back on track. Failure leads to success. Without a fail.