The Virtue of Waiting

Good Old Days - Damascene Rose

The Virtue of Waiting

And she waited, waited, and waited.

Indulged the meaning and depth of the verb to wait.

Dove as deep as possible to discover the meaning of sabr patience in Arabic.

Infinite layers … ocean deep. So to speak.

Maybe it was one more test along the way.

Maybe she wasn’t ready, just yet.

She hadn’t turned 50, just yet.

Here tits were still in their 30s.

Or maybe, that’s just what it was.

 

Somebody once said that waiting is wisdom.

Is it?

 

As she was in the library reading and arranging the shelves and drawers of inspiration, just as she used to organise her wardrobe when little in Damascus, she started imagining the moment of manifestation.

Ever since Mariam had stepped out of the Garden of Roses, nothing significantly had ever happened. Seeds of very beautiful moments alone.

There was this moment by the Straits still lingering … the Straits of Life.

And some other energies, as well. All unclear. Unconnected dots. But very powerful vibrations coming her way…

And people around her have imagined everything about her.
Everything, everything, but who she actually was.
So she opened one of those drawers and added up a list of the things people have imagined about her along the way:

 

#: “I am positive you have been to Jamaica.”

M: “Never, ever.”

# “They say this guy had set up a company for you and that you have been backed up, big time.”

M: “If only it were true!  He’d surely be my man... mon mec à moi. If only I had met him by now and had the family I have so much craved for. I have only been thrown by boys into the claws of life to win the battles they just couldn’t face. Back home, in Arabia,  we are taught that the local Camelots will protect us and take care of us. Guess what?"

1001 fairytales and bedtime stories
don’t seem to match reality

Yes. I have always been backed up by God and the entities of Light. There was a different and bigger plan for me. Making it on my own. Becoming the person I am today. As for the man, I met a man once… A very handsome man, by the Straights. He said “May God be with you”. I don’t know whether it’s “good-bye”, or “may God protect you  until we meet again.” Or “I let go of you, and I let you to God.”

Or, “just don’t think of it. It’s not now anymore.” Or, “yes, it’s now in its full manifestation. Slowly and smoothly.” Or, “Paula Abdul could be singing:Rush…rush… All is possible.”

# “You should relax. I for one I have only returned with my friends from Switzerland. We went skiing.”

M: She thought like “My dad was dying on me … I had trembled like a rabbit  that day…” and went silent. She didn’t feel the need to say anything.  “Yes. Relax.”

# “Your dad is an Arab. He must be bringing you gold from Arabia.”

M: “Yes, of course. Actually, he owns several petroleum tanks. We're just faking it. And my bed is made of gold… :D”

All in good time.
Should you think for an instant that she tried to imagine what was to follow. . .
Nah! No way, Jose. By now, Mariam had learnt that the “Universe” had never ever stopped surprising her.
Mariam – the main character of the book is brainstorming and allowing for the creative flow to unfold, naturally. The list is to be developed. She has got a very long one.
As far as I am concerned, I am not sure whether the name of the book will be Damascene Rose.
Though I love the resonance of the word.
It lingers …
So does the name of Mariam
Always
Good Old Days - Damascene Rose

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