What does it mean to be patient?

There is a small forest of trees behind the home where I am staying in Kadikoy. The wind shakes the boughs and the leaves rustle. They blow into the home through the swinging windows, and I collect the dried piles swept in the corners in my hands.

August, the trees were still. I'd squat with my back to the wall and watch the sunrise, a cool spread of grey to purple to blue. The biggest tree speaks to me sometimes. Not very loud. I have to be quiet to hear the message. It isn't words, exactly. It's more like impressions like watching your footsteps pool with water in the mud or the echo of a gong. The silent spin of the chakras is a vibration.

Trees communicate through their roots, so whatever this tree says to me has been gathered from the bushes in the park where I walk at sunset. Maybe it has allies in Antalya. Maybe it knows what I did in July when I was not in Istanbul. This tree knows me well. Maybe it's been tracing my footprints since Vancouver. Tracking me.

Humans hunt animals in the forest, though we are also being watched. Carefully and quietly.

I am grateful for this tree. I have been sad many times and come to the room by the window to sit. Sometimes, there are no tears. A lot of moments when I feel the ache in my body; I cannot cry. It takes a big rupture to break the damn inside of my chest. Maybe I will cry once I've gone on the plane or when I am in Morocco at Mouna's.

I have cried many times in this home.

September is so so windy. I am still me, and the trees are still green, though their leaves are tinged with red and gold and orange spots. Autumn will be upon us in a few weeks. I will not be here to see the leaves turn yellow and drop from the branches. I will not be here to see the trees stark naked. I wonder what is beyond them? I cannot see past the thicket. Perhaps it is better this way: to see less, to know less. I could wander beyond the border and peek at what is behind the enclave. I do not desire this. I am happy with the illusion of nature. I am surrounded by apartments and cafes, nestled in the center of Moda by the bike path. A quick zip to the sea. The trees provide a fantasy; I could be writing in total seclusion in the woods. But I am not. I know this deep down, yet I forget it for the morning hours while I work.

Patience pays; the tree whispers to me with the wind.

Autumn's love notes were slipped between the sheets, scattered with the seeds and feathers that floated inside with the gentle breeze. I longed for a gale all summer! The heat was heavy and suffocated the home. I spent many afternoons lying on my back with a book on my chest.

September is smooth, like the tahini sauce I pour over the quinoa salads I prepare and leave in oblong jars in the fridge. Beets, cucumber, dill, kale, lemon, and feta cheese. I will drop dairy as soon as I am through with what is in the fridge. I will sustain a sattvic diet during Ana Forrest and the Kundalini Training with Gurmuhk.

I will be fine on my own, once again - without you.

It is not easy to transition from the closeness into the solitude I've carried with me these two years. My heart leaps out to the lovers who've appeared like the birds who sweep over the trees with bugs at their beaks. There is one grey bird who tends to its nest every morning. It is routine, and I am the witness to this magnificent ritual.

Rather than sticks and bits of fluff, my nest is constructed by the incantations I embody before bed.

A mantra appeared to me while I was walking the sealine. I will not repeat it, for it is just for me for the time being. During my call with Georgina, she repeated phrases from this mantra. It is English, Christian, and the swift alignment between where I was and where I need to be proved that I am attuned to the universe's rhythms.

I am much better at listening to my body. I understand what my intuition feels like. I neglected my guts for decades, mistaking the sickness for something else. Now I know that the sensations that appear are telling me something - I have had many direct experiences of the things that I have read in books.

I cannot study. Theories mean nothing to me unless they are practiced.

This is the power of yoga. I must do it every day. This is where I must be patient and endure the process of repitition.

I loathe doing the same thing, day after day. It is why I love traveling. The thrill of not knowing where I will go, who I will see, or what energies I will encounter. I felt so static in Canada, though I understand now that I would feel the same no matter where I stay in the world.

Eventually, all things stick and slow down unless we make the consious effort to go with the flow.

My question is this: How to do the same thing every day with a refreshed sense of commitment? How do I keep the frame the same and train myself to see through a new lens?

I do not want to be ambivalent in my relationships. I will be more decisive moving forward. It is a useful quality to be curious and question. Doubt has helped me strengthen my resolve and intuition. Though, I've also been misguided as a result of my lack of trust in myself. I've had a creeping suspicion for weeks about him, and I did not act. I waited.

The tree! It told me three weeks ago to loosen the ties and step away. To let go and leave things alone. And I did for ten days. I was very strong. And then I surrendered. I do not regret it; it is good to see the missteps in the pattern that is being created. The drawing needn't be perfect on the first try. It is a process and I am practicing how to place myself in the world and who with at what time.

I will return to Turkey. I do not know when. It will not be to this home. I want to see my friends here; I have enjoyed myself immensely in this country. I was not accepted by everyone, though the few people who did welcome me shared their whole hearts!

It is a luxury and a gift to be received in this way.

Patience pays, though there are some people and events that do not require waiting. Some people, like me, fling themselves out without looking in the four directions. Why look if the feeling is good? I have never fallen so hard or far that I cannot get up again.

My last relationship took me down and under.

I will not bend my wings in such a way ever again.

Waiting, waiting; not for me! As long as I can see the sky and the stars, as long as I can smell the perfume I rub at my wrists, as long as I can call out and hear the echo of my voice in the wind. I will keep running.

Photo source.