Patience with Impatience 

I belong to an early morning writing group, conducted over Zoom. We always begin with a writing prompt.

Recently, someone tossed this one into our shared cyberspace: *Is the Universe rational?*

Oof. Is it? The question stopped me in my tracks. It occurred to me I might gain traction by considering the opposites of *rational*. Words like *absurd*, *oxymoron*, and *paradox* came to mind.

According to *Merriam-Webster*, an oxymoron is “a combination of contradictory or incongruous words (such as *cruel kindness*).” A paradox is “a person, situation, or action having seemingly contradictory qualities or phases.”

I find more and more paradoxes and oxymorons creeping into my life—sometimes in plain sight, other times deceptively, like wolves in sheep’s clothing. Not a lot of rationality here, it seems.

Early Lessons in Contradiction

Are my sensitivities to such phenomena increasing, or are more paradoxes and oxymorons truly encroaching on my life? Is it real, or is it confirmation bias? Both, perhaps.

The more I think about opposites together, the more of them I see. The more of them I see, the more my awareness increases.

It’s possible the roots of my sensitivity toward contradictions in life and language took hold in childhood.

As a first grader, I couldn’t understand why the teacher taught us a song that began:

*“My body lies over the ocean,

My body lies over the sea,

My body lies over the ocean,

Oh, bring back my body to me.”*

Miss Wallace acted like it was no big deal to introduce six-year-olds to transcontinental dismemberment in sing-song fashion. But hey, who was I to question a centuries-old lyric? I dutifully sang along, trying to act as normal as anyone could under the circumstances.

A few years passed before my mother corrected me: the word was *bonny*, not *body*. But by then it was too late. My thirst for paranormal true crime was already in place. A simple misunderstanding had given birth to a lasting change. See how easily I slip into oxymoronic lingo?

Finding Meaning in the Absurd

Other childhood experiences whetted my appetite for life’s absurdities. I’ll never forget asking my Aunt Jeannette why she always bought white cars.

Without missing a beat, she said, “It’s simple, honey. I buy white cars because they always look so pretty when the rust bleeds through.”

I’d never heard an adult praise rust, but OK—here was something new to consider. In Ohio, where we lived, there was plenty of rust to be seen. May as well embrace it.

Not all paradoxes, absurdities, and oxymorons are humorous.

Caretaking and Contradictions

Fifty years go by. It’s 2025, and my wife is recovering from spinal fusion surgery. I want to be a good caretaker—the best caretaker.

For the first three days post-surgery, I do a good job. I’m attentive, perceptive, and eager to fetch what needs fetching. I’ve done this job before, taken care of the cooking, cleaning, and nursing duties as required.

But on the fourth day, something snaps. I’ve been neglecting my own mental health, not taking enough quiet time. Anxiety builds up, and I’m no longer able to respond to her needs as readily.

I’m impatient. She’s impatient. It’s a recipe for disaster. After a small crash-and-burn, I understand what’s needed. I must develop *patience with impatience*.

Can patience and impatience coexist? Perhaps. I meditate on this idea and stop clinging to either. They wax and wane. Neither defines who I am. I’m both.

In this moment, I gain insight into what other caregivers must experience.

A Compassionate Shift

Surprisingly, I feel compassion for a man I’ve vilified for years—someone who claimed to love my mother, but whose actions failed her when she needed care the most.

I’ll never count him among my favorite people, but now I see: he was in the throes of panic and fear. His impatience took over and clouded his vision. Just as mine had.

So. Is the Universe rational?

I think it’s a matter of perspective. Distance may reveal logic in what seems absurd up close.

Can I accept life’s contradictions with open arms, willing to learn new lessons as I stub my toe on hard truths? Only time will tell.

For now, I’m happy to let the rust show through the white paint.

Nature reveals what we try to conceal.

~ Julie Snider