Patience: Riding the great wheel

If there ever was a time to write about patience, it would be now.

But I haven’t seen a lot of posts on patience during COVID-19. There are a lot of posts on anger and rage. There are posts on grief and how to get through isolation and depression too. There are practical posts and posts that try to foster empathy and solidarity. But not a lot about patience.

Maybe that is because we have no idea if and when this slow-mo crisis will ever end. Whether an effective vaccine ever comes or whether we simply figure out how to live with this new threat to our health, we need patience more than ever—patience with ourselves, patience with those people we do meet, patience with our families and patience with technology.

But I’m not actually writing about patience specifically because of COVID-19, though it is clearly relevant to the times. Patience is the next principle for practical ethics in my backwards take on the code of ethics I presented on this blog a few weeks ago.

While often unmentioned, it is a classic Pagan virtue. Patience is at its most basic about recognizing inevitable cycles, both within us and in the world around us. A farmer who pulls on the shoots will not hasten a good harvest to put it in Wheel-of-the-Year terms.

Last time, I wrote about joy as a principle of ethical living and that might have been confusing to some. But we are used to thinking of patience as a virtue and some may wonder what more there is to say about it.

Image via Pixabay

We should be more patient. We all know that. Yawn.

But before you dismiss patience from consideration, I would ask you to look at some aspects that slip through most interpretations. And to consider the great harm done by insisting that oppressed people need to be more patient. That gets us a bit closer to the ethical principle of patience.

First, we are all pretty familiar with the concept of being patient with children, students, customers, employees or people in the service industry. We are told that we should bite our tongues and stifle our frustration when people don’t live up to our expectations or do what they are supposed to do quickly enough.

Those of us who are very busy and living in hyper capitalist societies have a particularly hard time with this part of it. We are not fond of time wasters, be they human or inanimate. We take yoga and meditation classes to cope, and we still struggle for patience.

If you’ve taken enough self-help classes or have a therapist, you have likely also heard about the concept of being patient with one’s self. It’s the same as patience with others, except patience with yourself is about not churning out hateful, toxic self-talk as soon as you make the slightest mistake. Not everyone suffers from this problem overtly, but those who do likely know what I’m talking about. Here too, patience is widely regarded as a virtue.

But whether we’re talking about patience toward one’s self or toward others, does biting our tongues and suppressing frustration really do any good? Doesn’t it build up tension and resentment that will eventually do its damage anyway, even if less directly? Is patience really primarily about suppression?

It is for a lot of people today, and that’s part of our problem.

What if instead of suppression, we thought of patience as a long-view attitude. That’s what we need with COVID-19 after all. We aren’t telling people developing vaccines and medicines to “be patient” and suppress their feeling of urgency. We are asking them to pace themselves, do the careful double and triple checking and go through the proper science to keep people safe.

A lot of life under COVID feels like suppressing frustration, granted. We have to swallow frustration with our internet providers, our devices, our kids, their teachers, store clerks, our customers, our colleagues and so on. Everyone is on edge. We also have to swallow frustration and stifle twinges of panic at the sensation of partial suffocation in order to put on a mask again and again.

But what if instead of suppression we look at these actions actively? Instead of suppressing frustration we extend empathy to each of those people we are frustrated with. If instead of fighting frustration every time we put on a mask, we consider it an act of strength, steadfastly protecting those in need of protection.

Image via Pixabay

Then discomfort and frustration changes. It is still there but instead of frustration bottled up, it becomes another challenge overcome, another example of inner strength. This is a different kind of patience. It is closer to endurance, but still reminds us to be patient with ourselves as well.

Oppressed people have been told to be patient and to endure too much. Why would I consider patience a primary ethical value then?

If you don’t see patience as a matter of suppressing your feelings, but rather a matter of steadfast persistence and an attitude with a long view, then this question is less troubling.

There are issues and situations that need anger, even rage. There are times when suppression of such rage is wrong. We’ve seen some of those moments this year as well in the United States and elsewhere. But that doesn’t mean that we don’t need enduring patience at the same time.

Patience doesn’t mean suppressing the rage and grief of people who are yet again traumatized by a system that strips them of their worth and their rights. It means doing what must be done, fighting yet again. It means protesting day in and day out for months if that’s what it takes, like the people of Portland, Oregon have. It means considering the long view in the midst of a crisis and balancing the needs of the moment with strategy.

There are times to exercise patience toward those who don’t comprehend a burning issue the way we do. It is possible to say, “I recognize where you are coming from,” because it is a position we are familiar with. It doesn’t mean I agree, only that I recognize it and I have listened and heard the other. That doesn’t mean I won’t protect myself from someone who refuses to wear a mask or protect the vulnerable from a bigot.

Patience is about recognition of a living being, where they are at right now without assumptions made for their future. Patience doesn’t mean we let ourselves be trodden upon.

The same things apply to patience in our interpersonal relationships and with one’s self. Instead of suppressing frustration, patience here too should be about taking a long view and recognition of where a person is at.

Rather than suppressing my frustration with myself when I couldn’t work for three days due to illness, I have to recognize that I am sick and remember that if I push it, I will remain sick longer. The delay would, in the end, be longer.

Patience may not be the most welcome ethical principle in our tool kit, but it is certainly necessary. It is akin to the self-discipline mentioned in many codes, but it is self-discipline toward a specific purpose—a long view and a capacity to endure.

Patience, my dear ones. Do not despair.