Patience in the Ramble
Spring arrives in its own rhythm, offering a quiet lesson in patience if we’re willing to listen. On a recent visit to Georgia, I noticed some trees already in full bloom, their branches heavy with flowers and daffodils opening up in full bloom towards the sun. I remembered the daffodils in Central Park’s Ramble before I left for my strip — weeks off from full bloom and remaining in slow emergence. The contrast struck me, and for a moment, I felt my shoulders rise with anxiety. Was I blooming quickly enough? Was I moving at the right pace? The urgency to match the season’s shift pressed against me, even as I knew deep down that growth is not a competition.
It reminded me of training for long runs in Central Park. On long run days, instructors always emphasized going slow—an instruction that often felt counterintuitive. Pushing to the max comes naturally, but slowing down? That takes discipline. And yet, it’s in the steady, intentional pace that the most growth happens. The daffodils, unhurried yet certain, seem to understand this better than we do.
As spring begins, the natural world around us is waking up. The energy of the season is palpable, pulling us out of hibernation. The pace of life seems to quicken overnight—calendars fill, to-do lists stretch longer, and the urgency to emerge, create, and produce is strong. March, in particular, always feels like it moves faster than I expect. I blink, and suddenly, the season is in full swing. But how do we resist the pressure to bloom before we are ready? How do we find stillness in the Ramble of life’s transitions?
The daffodils remind us that patience is a form of wisdom. Though they stretch toward the sun, they do not rush their bloom. They take the time they need to unfurl, honoring the slow, quiet work that has been happening beneath the surface all along. We, too, can give ourselves permission to transition with care—to move with intention rather than urgency.
Octavia Butler reminds us, "The only constant is change." We are stepping into transformation, but we don’t have to sprint toward it. Just as nature moves in cycles, we, too, can honor our own timing. We can embrace the warmth of spring while remembering that growth is not a race. The beauty of this season will arrive in its own time, and so will we.
Walking Meditation: Embracing Slow Growth
Next time you take a walk—whether through the park, your neighborhood, or even just a quiet moment outside—consider making it a walking meditation. As you move, bring awareness to your breath and the pace of your steps. Notice the signs of spring emerging around you. Observe which flowers are in full bloom and which are still waiting, taking their time. Feel the ground beneath you, steady and patient. Let this be a reminder that your own growth, too, can be slow and intentional.
Reflection Questions:
Where in my life am I feeling the pressure to bloom quickly?
How can I give myself permission to move at my own pace?
What areas of my life need more patience and care before fully emerging?
How can I honor both the stillness and the momentum of this season?
In the Ramble of life, may we find our own stillness. May we learn from the daffodils, trusting that change is constant, but our unfolding does not need to be rushed.
In Still of Patience,
Gabrielle
