I have a confession to make. I am a fidgeter. Those of you who know me, know that I’m a yoga practitioner. Yep. Been practicing yoga for over two decades. Not just casually taking a yoga class here and there. No. I have done yoga to extremes, at various points over time. From 4-5 hours a day, to 4-5 times a week. Consistently over the past two decades. And I’ve done my share of mediation practice. Yet still, I fidget. Not just occasionally. Constantly.

One of the symptoms of my fidgeting, is taking iPhone photos of everything that attracts my fidgeting monkey-mind. This is why I have over 15,000 photos on my iPhone storage. Really? And I consider myself a meditator and yogini. What the heck is wrong with me? It’s my mind. My monkey mind winning the fidget battle in my head. A prime example, is that when I go for a walk, and see some beautiful blooming tree or vibrant colorful flowers, I can’t just enjoy it. No. I have to take a picture of it. And this happens repeatedly.

It’s a struggle, to pass by something attracting my attention.  Like do I really have to pick up that perfectly shaped pinecone and carry it home, to showcase with the other perfect pinecones I’ve gathered? Or can I let it lay? And appreciate it. That, would be Zen in practice. A moving meditation. I try. I struggle with it. Love the concept, but it’s a struggle.

Passing by a hillside of beautiful bright berries on our morning walk, I struggle, not to get out my iPhone. Do I need to snap another picture of the same bushes, that I’ve already repeatedly captured? Of course not. I hold the course. I keep walking. I breathe.

I think of other times, that I’ve patiently held the course. Practicing patience. Has it all been for naught? My early morning, and evening yoga practice? The afternoon and morning meditation endeavors? Years of learning to control my mind? I have to wonder.

In some ways, I know it has served me. I think of the patience I have endured with caring for my husband, recovering from a traumatic brain injury, and near-death accident. Our well-being has been preserved through times I have patiently understood. The nights I have patiently helped him through pain and sleeplessness. The mornings, I have patiently got us ready and gone to hundreds of appointments. The unknowing, that I have patiently endured. The time for healing and sacrifice that we together have patiently shared.

Then, a flash of insight puts things in perspective, isn’t that what really counts? Isn’t that where patience is really the most important attribute, we have for each other. In retrospect, so what if I have 15,000 images on my iPhone. The next time I walk past that beautiful bright berried hillside, I’m going to whip out my iPhone.