The Skill of Patience – Columbia Metropolitan Magazine


Learning to accept daily frustrations

By Thomas Barbian, Ph.D.

Patience is a virtue! Or, at least that is how the saying goes. But is it really? Patience is defined as “the capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble or suffering without getting angry or upset,” a definition with several important components. Patience is also a skill. We can work on increasing our ability to be patient and engage in practices to become a more patient person. 

Before looking at how to develop more patience, it is best to define what we are actually talking about. Patience (or the lack thereof — impatience) occurs in response to some sort of difficulty or delay in life that is not going according to expectation. A day can hardly be lived without encountering something that interferes with our plans, and so we might say that the “interferences” or “disruptions” are a normal part of life; to expect otherwise will make it difficult to be patient. 

Don’t lie so still

 Katherine  beautiful thoughtschildhoodCouragedeathemotionhow to liveimagessorrowThinkings and poemstruthfulnessvirtue  October 2, 2021 1 Minute

Ah,brother I don’t want you to lie still

No blood to circulate,no thoughts,no will

No help,no humour.jokes no

sharp true eye

From our old shared pram,to live, to die.

I used to do your homework

late at night

Abstract thought to you was no delight.

You wondered over X and y and z

Preferred the shapes of Nature in your head.

I shall retain the memories of the good

You who taught me speech and hate and love


Do we choose what we perceive each hour?
Or are we automata clothed in skin,
Wh see the thorns and then ignore the flower?

Can we, like grass, be grateful for a shower.
Or is our store of gratitude too thin?
Can we choose what we perceive each hour?

Can we choose to smile instead of cower?
Can we love the game played not to win?
Who sees sharp thorns but then ignores the flower?

Do we choose to love or to use power?
Can we choose the virtue, not the sin?
Do we choose what we perceive each hour?

As we struggle inside Babel’s tower
Ambivalence may torture some within
Most see the thorns and then ignore the flowers

With softened eyes ,we see the whole sweet bower
If we draw near, we see what is now dim
Can we choose what we perceive each hour?
Some see the thorns but then ignore the flowers.

The delightful convent school

I went to a convent school when I was 11 and I barely survived emotionally leaving at the edge of 18 mute and miserable. And that is an understatement

I will give examples and you will find shard to believe

Most of the nuns did not like me but I have no idea why except that when I was in the lower forms I was generally top of the class and sometimes even top in every subject. But I was not expecting this nor was I proud of it. I was keen on music and having lesson are the two instruments free because h thought to be very talented. I. cared much more about that one about the academic subjects

So when the end of my first year I came first of 106 girls . One of them said to me I am very surprised that you are top because you do not look at all intelligent I didn’t know what to make of this, it was not necessary to say that to me because I was not very confident anyway

We were poor so I was made to take a second hand blazer during morning assembly I had to approach the headmistress ask her in front of the school permission to keep this louder. I that was one of the worst experiences of my life because I was very quiet shy and felt very embarrassed about my shabby clothing.

Still in early years I had friends and was able to talk to them and have fun with them time went on this week a more difficult, but one thing that really su

Shocks me is how frightened I was of nuns and any the teachers.

I had an exercise book with graph paper in it and I had drawn a beautiful graph on the back page which I read about in a book.

Fast forward and I’m in the sixth form studying double maths and physics for A level. I had found a safer world. To live in

One day the teacher was returning homework which I had done in the front of the exercise group but when she was going to lyrics back to me she owned it at the wrong end and saw the beautiful graph which I had illegally drawn in the exercise book paid for by the school.

When I saw her looking I was afraid but also felt ashamed in a total manner. I feel disturbed remembering that and how I felt I had no protection from the nuns and really teachets and ultimately since it was a very strict Catholic l protection from the savage god we worshipped it was so cruel the he required the murder of his son before he could forgive us for our sins.

The teacher looked at my graph and said It was beautiful. What a relief. But I don’t understand why I was so terrified maybe it was because I used to be beaten with a leather belt from t when I was 4 years old. Maybe I was traumatised

10 years later I heard one of the nuns had been killed in a road açcident,

I was glad. I’m afraid that I’m still glad because she was the worst one and was not suitable to deal with young girls.