Here’s a passage from my book Leap Before You Look.

Whenever you can, sit and wait.
There is no need to distract yourself
By filling the gap with random activity.
At the gate at the airport,
In the few minutes before it’s time to leave the house,
While waiting for the bus,
Rather than picking up a book,
Or flipping the pages of a magazine,
Or checking e-mail or switching on the TV,
Just sit and wait,
Present . . . ready . . . available,
Waiting for the next thing to happen.
No need to meditate or get spiritual.
Just wait, like a cat, or a bird in a tree.
Become the waiting itself.
Wait for the kiss of the divine.
Wait for the kiss that kisses your lips
From the inside.

Pure waiting is the supremely meditative state. Usually, we don’t choose it consciously, and we resent it. If we embrace waiting completely—if we relax into it completely without resistance—the body can become fully relaxed, while at the same time the senses become sharp and present. Then, we are available to life, to the divine source.

I have a friend who is a monk. He told me that during his training, the novices were divided into three groups. Those in the first group, like him, were told to go to another area, where each would be given a meditation hut, and to wait there for further instructions. The first day passed, and no one came. Then another day, and another. Food was brought, but no instructions and no instructor. After about a week, from his solitary hut he heard the sounds of someone sweeping the nearby hut that was set aside for the teacher. Surely this meant someone was finally coming! He waited all day, alert, ready, anticipating. But still no one came. After another week, they cleaned the hut again, yet again no one came. By the next week, he realized that the cleaning was simply done on a weekly basis and meant nothing. He and the other novices stayed in their huts like this for three months. During this time, he sometimes felt angry, sometimes bored, sometimes depressed. But through it all, he always remembered that they had told him to sit and wait for further instructions. He told me that his three-month period of waiting was the most important part of his training. In that time, he learned the art of pure waiting. It trained him to listen totally, to be receptive, to be aware without interpretation.

Practice waiting as often as you can, in the simple trust that if you do nothing, sooner or later the perfect thing will happen on its own.

To get 71 more easy practices like these, purchase my book Leap Before You Look here.

Photo credits: Ambro, a454


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