this, too, shall pass

This weekend, I am trying valiantly to apply these small, unassuming four words to everything I do. According to an ancient Sufi story, 'this, too, shall pass' was the counsel given to a persian prince by a wise man. The prince was suffering angst over the great changes in mood he experienced, between happiness and despondency. The wise man advised that beyond serving as a comfort, these words bring a stillness to the situation at hand. They allow us to recognise the brevity of all moments and the inevitability of change. Once we are able to see this, fear and angst about the future passes.
I am hanging on each little word to greatly appreciate the good, and hit back and sail through the bad and the ugly. When a mother at Little Gym chortles in my face at the idea that her son's barking cough may be contagious. When tt wakes forty-eight hours later unable to breathe with his second onslaught of croup. When having to pump 11ml of oral steroids into his hungry little body to open up swollen airways. When infection rattles him overnight, and j and I run relays in the dark for bottles and thermometer. And then, after hours holding him upright and tt finally grants me permission to lie us both down together in his cot, he snuggles in close and then I am loath to recall that: this, too, shall pass.

all the better to hear you with, my dear

It would seem that even the ancient Greeks struggled with mindfulness: 'The reason we have two ears and only one mouth, is that we may hear more and speak less' (Zeno, Greek philosopher 335 BC - 264 BC). 

To truly listen seems an impossible task, when instinct directs us to have our story heard. I have learnt this week that it takes just one person to improve a relationship, just one of the two who tango to change the path and open the relationship up to a to a new direction. This is the task I have set myself: I am learning to listen. I will listen to the chattering of my son as he squeezes banana through his fingers and wipes it across his chair. I will listen to my husband who is unwinding after a busy day and informing me of a market analysis I don't understand. I will listen to the taxi driver who is concerned his previous client will lodge a complaint against him for taking the long route.
I will politely decline to listen to my loud and ever constant mind.