We Cannot predict waiting time
Garden delights … Photo by Sandra Butel
I am Sandra Butel and this is my beautywalk.
beautywalk is the intentional way in which I approach every single step of my personal journey. It is about pausing to ask important questions and being still enough to hear the answers.
Wait here
Two large pieces of clear Scotch tape secure the sign with the message: We Cannot predict waiting time. Something about the insistence of these words, capitalized for emphasis and printed and reprinted in both my mother tongue and my recently less awkward second language, leaving enough space for a breath in between, strikes me as deeply meaningful.
At first glance this is an attempt by overstimulated staff, who are all just doing their best, to deal with the bums in seats gathered here. How often do they have to tell an impatient patient that they have no idea when their turn will come? How often does the impatient patient huff and puff and threaten to blow their house down?
I glance around at the people gathered here with me as I await the precise tone and rhythm of my given name that will be my sign to get up off the grey plastic seat beneath me and follow whomever waits with scanning eyes for a reaction. I wonder for a moment what my name will sound like in a French accent? Will I recognize it and lift my head or will the clinic worker have to repeat it again and again, her voice rising in impatience each time?
The mystery is solved even before I finish writing the last sentence. I hear my name in a Spanish sounding French accent, called out clear as a bell by a nurse who also happens to be named Sandra. I wonder if her Mom knew three lovely women with that name, just like mine did. Or if maybe there was a soap star that shone brightly with that name? I think it is a good sign that we have the same name and I follow her with a smile.
Incognito spiritual warrior. Photo by Sandra Butel
A gift
A gift is given by my namesake when she asks me if I know my weight. Blood pressure cuff holding tight and as the pressure releases I laugh and say in my slightly accented French that no I do not know it and in fact it has been a long time since I have weighed myself. Up from another plastified chair this time in a deep shade of blue and three steps later I stand in front of the grandfather clock shaped scale. I laugh again and ask if I should take off my shoes, wanting the number to be as low as possible. She shakes her head and I take the first step and then the second, my orange Hokas parting to reveal the number below.
Surprise lifts my eyebrows and I whisper the number with a question mark included. An exhalation of air pushes out of my lips that would have been a whistle if it weren’t for how my mid teen braces permanently reshaped my mouth into its current whistleless status. A smile finds its place in between my ears, behind which my long hair is tucked, big and bright and full of delight. Nurse Sandra, her curiosity peaked by the strength of my childish delight, asks me in her sing-songy French how much bigger the number used to be. I reply and I can hear the intake of breath as a smile spreads across the sweet countenance of her face. When our time together is over, “Gros merci, Sandra,” and “Passez une belle journee,” are passed back and forth and I find myself back in the waiting room once again.
Seated here, my thoughts wander back to that sign printed and taped upon the wall and the weight and worth of its message. How often could I benefit from really taking in what has been written there?
As human beings we are notoriously bad at predicting what is going to happen next and when.
How much pain has it caused you when your predictions of what and when prove as accurate as the weekend forecast in the days before an outdoor special event?How often have you sat waiting with your tummy sick and churning?
How often have you noticed your shoulders lifting and your jaw clenching as you tell yourself what should or shouldn’t be happening?
The Work
This takes me to The Work of Byron Katie in which I have been engaged over the last few weeks. It isn’t the first time I have found myself practicing Katie’s unique type of questioning that she calls inquiry. The general idea is that our thoughts are like our precious children and rather than pushing them away we need to welcome them with a clear head and a heart full of love.
Four questions later and we find ourselves with a clearer sense of what is really going on. By paying loving attention to our nagging thoughts we put them at ease. We give them our gift of understanding. We find out what is really going on and we begin to understand our role in everything that has come our way.
There are times when Katie’s methods ring true with a resultant opening heart. Other times my ego balks at the idea that the pain I have encountered with what has come to pass has been caused by my beliefs about the situation and not some evil other or just plain bad luck that I can blame.
The two arrows of Buddha
This idea is a bit like the Buddha’s analogy of the two arrows. The first arrow is shot by an outside force into the first layer of our skin. It hurts. Then there is the second arrow which is our interpretation of the meaning of the first arrow. I can attest that I have had first hand experience of the Buddha’s insistence that it is the second arrow that causes the most pain. I can also attest that the second arrow’s pain lasts long after the initial wounds have scabbed over with new skin.
How long will we feel the pain of the second arrow?
How deeply will we draw it into our skin?
How much damage will we cause by being unable to let the shock of the first arrow be a thing of the past?
How long will we keep reliving the infraction?
Move your little body ... Photo by Sandra Butel
We Cannot predict waiting time
How strange it is to be writing about waiting when what I set out to do today in this plastic-chaired waiting room is to get myself on a waiting list for a future procedure. How strange it is to be here thinking about waiting when what brought me here is an ongoing pain in my hip, caused by one leg that came out of the birth canal an inch longer than the other. This anomaly has evaded detection until last year’s growing discomfort led me to a diagnosis of short leg syndrome.
The biggest strain I have been feeling about this is not the diminished range of motion of my hip, or the stiffness of my right leg that has spent its time bending over backwards to keep the left leg from feeling any inadequacy at its shortness. It is, rather, the anxiety and stress that has filled my head about the when of, “when this will all be over and done with and I will be all healed and back to my routine, better than ever”.
Tired of waiting
I spent the last week waiting for my Quebec health card (RAMQ) to come in the mail. We received a letter to let us know that we would be eligible as of August 1st, 2025 and in my state of “getting shit done” I expected to see the card in my mailbox on that morning. I was not expecting a delay and my impatience rose as Thursday came and then Friday and by Monday I had gotten it into my head that I just could not wait any longer. The shoulds came out to play with such statements as, “I shouldn’t have to wait any longer. They said August 1st and it is already August 2nd and bla bla bla.” I got into quite the routine of imagining the worst case scenarios that each day of waiting would bring. They would run out of surgery spots, or I would get a really bad surgeon and I would pay for it for the rest of my life. Lots and lots of second arrow pain. At one point in my comedic routine, I managed to remember that one of the ways out of rumination was simply to move ourselves from where we are to somewhere (pretty much anywhere) else.
Moving into action
I decided to move into action and see what I could make happen even without the trusty little card in hand. I took a few deep breaths, reasoning that I would give it a shot and if it didn’t work out, I would just try something else. I counted on my super star phone skills to get me past whatever red tape I would meet and armed with my bilingualism and laptop I picked up the phone to make some inquiries. By Wednesday morning I had acquired the number, expiry and security codes from my brand new card and secured an appointment with a doctor whose name is, no word of a lie, Rich Gold. I found every single person I talked to, which I believe ended up being at least 7, to be patient and friendly and good at their jobs. Mostly, what I found is that they all really wanted to make sure I got the best possible care for whatever my health concerns happened to be.
This act of moving into action felt really really good. I remembered how much I liked the rush of getting people to go from NO to maybe to a resounding, “Yes, of course.” Action moved me out of the ruminating shoulds so I could actually do something about the increased anxiety I was feeling as I lifted up the top of the mailbox with a squeak and peered inside only to see that it was still empty. Moving into action was something I have been well trained to do, my previous life as a large event planner having been spent making mountains out of whatever little bit of offering I could get my hands on.
After a series of scans with a fellow Ukrainian named Vladimir I head back home to await a call from my golden doctor to tell me what he recommends should happen next. Our chat is shorter than predicted and there are no notes to be taken as the scans aren’t ready yet.. My follow up phone appointment has been pushed to next week.
Sun kissed and perfectly imperfect, I wait … Photo by Francis Marchildon
Waiting
So here I wait. Knowing in some unknowable way that whatever is meant to happen will happen and my job is to be here in this moment, not fighting my reality or judging loss from win. My job is to be present; to pay attention; to ask questions and to wait quietly until the answers come from some place deep within.
In the meantime I will go about my business, make good food, create conditions for good sleep, connect with loved ones and strangers and move my body in ways that bring with them the peace and joy of a focused, slow rhythm.
We Cannot predict waiting time
11:11 says the screen up on the clinic wall, winking at me as it hints at the magic world of meaning in each number. Before I know it, it is 11:12 and then 11:13 and then … As the passing of time has seemed to pick up speed the older I get, I know that my waiting will be over and done before I know it.
I am Sandra Butel and this is my beautywalk. What’s yours?
Trust the process Photo of my Mom by my Dad
Resources for Further Study and Personal Growth
For further insight on how to let go of that which no longer serves you I highly recommend the following resources:
There are many YouTube videos of Byron Katie doing “The Work” that will give you some insight into her process of inquiry.
Psychologist, teacher and writer Tara Brach writes about the two arrows as the Buddha outlined them in her blog The Wisdom of Its Not My Fault.
I am ready to launch another series of groups for the Positive Intelligence Program. It is a 7 week course that will help you to let go of your negative thinking and find more creativity, more curiosity, more empathy, more focused action and more alignment with your personal values. I will be present as your guide and to answer any questions you may have. For more information check out my coaching programs and testimonials from previous clients.
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