Waiting

I am waiting for something.

While I wait, I am thinking of that old black-and-white cow that was tethered to a peg in what was the equivalent of the village green in Langham, Saskatchewan. All that cow could do was circle round and round, grazing on the grass within the circle she could reach. Poor thing, but that was just the way of life for that cow.

The village green was a low spot, green in the summer, but in the spring it became the slough — a veritable lake, where boys could float a raft and prod it around with a stick and enjoy being sailors. A novel experience on the prairies.

Back to the cow, tethered. When you are waiting for something, you are snagged up. You are not going anywhere until the thing you are waiting for finally happens. Then life can go on, but in the meantime, you are tethered to the thing you are waiting for. It is as if the flow of life is dammed up, and the longer you have to wait, the more dammed up it feels. Please let this thing happen so that life can go on. The mind keeps going to it, like the tongue going to a new chip in a tooth.

While I am tethered to this thing that I am waiting for, I think of maya — the Buddhist concept of earthly desires being mere illusion, a distraction from the deep flow of spiritual existence. Maya being something we must learn to detach from.

And yet. And yet. Breakfast must be made. Dishes must be done. The garden must be watered. A thank-you letter must be written. The cat must get another flea treatment because those darn fleas are biting my ankles instead of sticking to biting the cat, as they should. Darn fleas. I am waiting to call on the neighbour to hold the cat while I put the flea treatment on her neck, because the cat tries to shoot into the air to avoid the deathly feeling of a few cool drops on her skin. But that is not my big waiting. That is just a little mundane waiting.

While you are waiting for the major thing, you have to pacify your mind. Be patient. Things will work out. It will all be good in the end. Meantime, make the best of it. As my bridge friend says, after playing out a hand of poor cards, you have to make the best of what you have to work with.

After the thing comes that you have been waiting for, you will have a brief respite from waiting — from the tether — but I promise you this: almost immediately, a new thing to wait for will arise.

Here is the big thing I am waiting for: I am waiting for my son to get his hip replacement surgery date, for which he has now been waiting fifteen months. All the while, he becomes more disabled and has more pain. I am sorry for his trouble. I would take it away from him if I could, but I can’t do a thing about it. He is the one with the pain, waiting for the surgery. But I am his mom.

So I am just waiting.