Whatever happened to waiting?

I sometimes wonder if we've forgotten how to wait.

Not because we're impatient people, but because the world around us has quietly taught us that waiting is something to avoid.

Think about how much our world has changed.

Need to send money? We Venmo it.

Hungry? Pop it in the microwave.

Have a question? Google has an answer in seconds.

Want to reach someone? We send a text instead of waiting until they get home.

Need something from the store? It can often arrive on our doorstep tomorrow.

Technology has given us incredible gifts. It has connected us, simplified many aspects of life, and made things possible that previous generations could never have imagined.

And yet...

I wonder what we've unintentionally traded in return.

We've become so accustomed to immediate answers and instant results that we've begun expecting life itself to move at the same pace.

We want to achieve our goals quickly.

Build successful businesses quickly.

Lose weight quickly.

Find happiness quickly.

Heal quickly.

Recently, I noticed something that stayed with me.

Several new clients came for their first Craniosacral Therapy sessions. As we talked, they shared pieces of their stories—difficult pregnancies, challenging births, accidents, losses, seasons of overwhelming stress, and experiences they hadn't thought about in years.

As I listened, we became curious together about how those life experiences might still be influencing how they felt today.

And then, almost without exception, came the same question.

"How long will it take before I feel different?"

It's such an honest question.

Of course we long to feel better.

When we're hurting—physically, emotionally, or spiritually—we naturally want to know when life will feel easier again.

But it also made me pause.

Some of the experiences we had just discussed had happened years... even decades... earlier.

We can carry something for twenty, thirty, or even fifty years, and yet quietly hope it will disappear overnight.

Perhaps we've become so accustomed to living in a world of instant answers that we've forgotten that some things unfold in their own time.

The body has never learned to read our calendars.

It doesn't know we have a vacation next week.

It doesn't know we have an important event coming up.

It doesn't know we've decided we should be "better" by now.

Instead, it moves with incredible wisdom.

Sometimes that wisdom surprises us with profound changes after a single session.

Other times, the body has spent years protecting us and simply needs time before it feels safe enough to let go.

Neither is right.

Neither is wrong.

It is simply the body's own perfect timing.

The garden I planted recently reminded me of this in the simplest way.

I prepared the soil.

I planted the seeds.

I watered them.

And then...

I waited.

I didn't dig them up the next morning to see if they were growing.

I trusted the process.

Nature has never apologized for taking its time.

A flower doesn't bloom because we're impatient.

A tree doesn't grow stronger because we check on it every hour.

Perhaps healing asks the same of us.

Not to rush.

Not to force.

Not to measure ourselves against someone else's timeline.

But to trust that, given the right environment, patience, compassion, and support, growth is quietly taking place—even when we cannot yet see it.

Perhaps waiting was never wasted time at all.

Perhaps it is where life quietly does its most beautiful work.

🕉️ ❤️ find your joy ❤️ 🕉️

~marci