How much of life is waiting?
Waiting for the appointment. Waiting for the answer. Waiting for the next thing to begin.
We treat waiting as empty time. Time that doesn't count.
But what if the waiting is the thing?
The waiting that fills life
We wait constantly.
In line. On hold. For results. For responses. For the right moment. For things to get better.
Some waiting is minutes. Some is months. Some is years.
Add it up and it's a significant portion of life.
How we treat waiting
We treat waiting as waste.
Something to get through. Something to fill with distraction. Something that happens before the real thing.
We're waiting for life to begin. Meanwhile, life is happening in the waiting.
The waiting as container
What if waiting is a container?
A space where things can develop. Where anticipation builds. Where readiness forms.
Some things can only be rushed at the cost of quality. Some things need time to cook.
Active waiting
There's a difference between passive and active waiting.
Passive waiting is just killing time. Active waiting is preparing. Learning. Becoming ready for what you're waiting for.
Active waiting transforms the waiting from empty to full.
What the waiting offers
The waiting room offers:
Patience practice. The muscle that modern life atrophies.
Presence opportunity. Can you be here, even when here isn't exciting?
Reflection space. Time to think, if you don't fill it with noise.
Anticipation. The pleasure of looking forward, which is itself a pleasure.
Right now
If you're waiting for something:
You're not in the empty space before life. You're in life.
This moment—the waiting moment—is as real as any other. It's not a rehearsal. It's the show.
What can you do with the waiting? What is the waiting offering you?
Waiting isn't emptiness.
It's a space with its own gifts.
The waiting room is still a room. You're still in it. Life is still happening.
Don't wait to live. Live while you wait.
The thing you're waiting for might be worth less than the waiting itself.