Patience

How much more fun I have being patient than I once had in the old days. 

Though I have much less time now than I once had.

The simple act of looking out a window presents the challenge of choosing to have nothing to see, very little, or of having almost much too much.

Patience is always rewarded, at the very least with some new kind of awareness, though it's taken me far too long to see this.

I've learned, for example to be very patient with the morning newspaper. Though I'm still much too impatient with the organized social world of human beings, I find there's always one piece of news, if I am patient enough to let it come to me, that is willing to define the present condition of the collective, which is therefore my responsibilty to be aware of--such as the news in this morning's New York Times that suicides in the US military now account for more fatalities than those suffered in combat.

Patience is a tiny white bug that can't be seen by the naked eye, trying to scale the trunk of a eucalpytus tree.