A package arrived for my 13-year-old son recently, much earlier than I had anticipated. While I expected it to show up on Monday, he had eagerly checked the tracking information and expected it by 8 p.m. Sunday. When I pointed out that the package was sent through USPS, which doesn’t operate on Sundays, his enthusiasm waned. He would have to wait a whole extra day for the headphones he had meticulously researched and saved for, which felt like an eternity to him.
It’s moments like these that test my patience. I often find myself becoming a bit irritable with a child who seems so affected by minor setbacks, especially given the privileges he enjoys. A simple droop of the shoulders can remind me of people in the world who face far graver uncertainties, like not knowing where they will sleep tonight. I encouraged my son to find a way to distract himself while he waited for his delivery.
I am, admittedly, a bit of a hypocrite. I recall a breakfast with a business associate who casually mentioned her side gig as a medium. Suddenly, all professional discussion was out the window, and my mind was solely focused on her claims of communicating with the deceased. While I recognize that some people profit from the gullible with fabricated messages, I also believe there are genuine psychics out there, much like there are individuals who excel in mathematics or have an affinity for spiders. Just because I struggle to grasp these concepts doesn’t mean they lack validity.
Intrigued, I later signed up for a session with her. I was instructed to identify a pressing question without sharing it with her. She would then meditate on it and relay any insights she received. After our session, she sent me a recording of her interpretations. I won’t disclose my specific question, but suffice it to say it revolved around aspirations that occupy a considerable space in my thoughts.
My spirit guide, as it turns out, is quite the character: a man resembling Roberto Benigni, donning bright workout attire, frolicking down a train track, munching on peaches and popcorn while discussing pigeons. It might seem absurd, but perhaps he’s nudging me to understand that not everything I desire will come to me instantly. Sometimes, I need to relax and allow life to unfold at its own pace, which is definitely not the answer I wanted to hear.
There’s a particular route I often take to downtown that I’m convinced could be shorter if I’m running late. However, one traffic light on that path, which I refer to as the “punishment light,” seems designed to prolong my journey unnecessarily. It always turns green just as I approach, forcing me to wait several frustrating minutes.
This “punishment light” serves as a metaphor for my son’s delayed package and my spirit guide’s quirky advice. It reminds me that there are individuals facing far more significant challenges and that I should embrace patience—perhaps even consider taking up yoga instead of merely wishing that yoga pants were appropriate office wear.
Yet, in a twist of fate, the package my son expected on Sunday actually arrived that very day, bringing him immense joy.
In conclusion, the universe sometimes nudges us to slow down and embrace the waiting game, which can lead to unexpected delights.
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