When I feel impatient,
I picture a person in the middle of a corn field with the stalks half-grown,
Only waist high,
And the person is
Powerless, pouty, and selfish.
They are petulantly commanding stalks to grow,
To give ears of corn.
Because they want corn-on-the-cob,
and they want it now.
The scenario is ugly.
It challenges me with a valuable silent message.
Life demands that we develop patience,
and much can be learned by nature’s example of seed time and harvest.
When it comes to what I want,
The moments when I want,
And cannot have, just yet.
I accept the process of growth,
There are legitimate wants and needs in all of us.
But everything takes time.
The dream job,
The new car,
The cabin in the woods,
The vacation in Italy,
The love of an uncommon man,
and his kiss…
If a person is wise,
They will accept the rule of nature,
And hold the lesson of the corn field in their heart.
I lived in a home for one year that had a very large window in its family room,
And if you looked through the window, you could see a huge field of corn that went back as far as you could see at the edge of the property.
I was privileged to observe this field in every season –
And each one had its own claim to beauty;
The season of winter, when snow sugarcoated the world with a sparkling crystal powder,
The season of springtime, when the furrows of earth were cocoa-colored mounds in perfect rows of narrow,
The season of late summer when the corn grew green and tall and was the perfect place for games,
Or hide-aways for lovers to embrace, surrounded by green sweet-smelling life.
It was a good year.
I never tired of the view through the window.
If a person allows themselves to stop fixating on a desire,
And starts paying attention to the miracle that is happening right in front of them,
Albeit, in slow motion,
They will learn one of the keys to happiness.
To be content in whichever state they find themselves.
My favorite field of corn is imagined.
I am walking through its rows.
Enveloped in sunshine, I hear a rustling whisper
My jeans, with the help of a lazy summer breeze, wakens leaves from their quiet sleepy state.
They brush against my legs
Tickling my hands,
And my heart rests inside,
taking pleasure in the fact
that something I planted is growing.
One day it will bear fruit.
But where it is today is enough,
Because it is part of the process.
Can you see me walking there,
in vibrant rows of green?
That is where I go
In my mind,
To remind myself
That something is growing,
That I cannot rush the process,
That Love is long-suffering,
And always always hopes.
And while love hopes it watches
The slow-motion miracle
Fruit will come.
I will one day hold it in my hands
Like the perfect ear of corn.
It will be amazingly sweet,
I will savor it on my tongue,
And it will be
every moment of the wait.