This morning, I open the window shade to find gentle snow falling onto the long brown branches and into the deep green pines. Every once in awhile a wave of sun lights up the last few leaves on the trees, turning them gold.

I have never been very attracted to the idea of patience. Yet this December, for some reason, I keep reading and re-reading the chapter called Patience in Jon Kabat-Zinn's "Wherever You Go, There You Are." Jon says "If you cultivate patience, you almost can't help cultivating mindfulness, and your meditation practice will gradually become richer and more mature."

"After all," he says, "if you really aren't trying to get anywhere else in this moment, patience takes care of itself. It is a remembering that things unfold in their own time. The seasons cannot be hurried. Spring comes, the grass grows by itself."

The air is silver-grey again now. The snow swirls on the wind. Maybe I am attracted to patience after all. As Jon says, "Through it all, we attempt to bring balance to the present moment, understanding that in patience lies wisdom, knowing that what will come next will be determined in large measure by how we are now."

Wherever You Go, There You Are, pages 47-50.