River
The virtue of patience is not endurance but an openness to accept whatever comes. It's like a river that is wide and deep enough to dilute any handfuls of salt that get thrown in. The constant motion of its currents sweeps away everything that falls into it. However, what the river hides underneath the churnings on the surface is a quality of groundedness.
Deep underwater, the world becomes still. The rocks and objects of human civilization that have sunk down to the bed exude a solidity, as if they have been present for a period of time that can’t be measured. The tails of underwater creatures flicker in the corner of one’s eyes and disappear. Vegetation that has grown from the riverbed or has fallen from shore and settled undulates in the imperceptible movement of the water.
In the depths, the river speaks of movement and life but in a particularly muffled way. The sheer amount of water and the movement of the currents might have diluted the pain and frustrations. But the way the river truly reflects patience may be in the capacity of its deep bottom world to embrace and hold all things with alertness yet without incessant noise.