Worth in the wait

In today’s fast-paced, instant-gratification world, it is easy to forget the deep pleasures that anticipation can bring. At this time of year, nature can be our guide.

- Eleanor Tucker

Spring has not yet sprung. Walking through the woods, there is no satisfying autumnal crunch underfoot – these leaves fell months ago, rotted, and are now frozen. There is a void here, from which the smell of growth will soon emanate but, for now, the air seems as pale and lifeless as the sky. Around me, nothing moves, making me wonder where everything goes at this time of year. To warmer climes; to hibernate; to die? The end of winter: no amount of hygge can make these weeks seem cosy. All that’s left is to wait. And wait…

I reach the gate to the car park and call the children, telling them to hurry up. They’re cold and charge towards me, keen to get home and into the warmth. I scan the woods one last time and try to take something from the landscape that I can find joy in, but I can’t. The only pleasure is in the waiting for it to change.

Get it all, get it now

And that’s when I realise it. We have forgotten how to wait. We’ve forgotten how to take pleasure in waiting as an action of its own. In our culture of instant gratification, hacks and one-stop shops, the wonder of waiting for something has been left behind. There’s no anticipation any more, with its tingling pleasure.

We don’t need to wait until Saturday to get the bus into town and buy our favourite band’s new single – we download a whole album in one tap. We don’t need to wait a week for the next episode of a much-loved show – we ‘binge watch’ the entire season. And we don’t need to wait for the phone to ring to speak to an old friend who’s moved abroad – they sent us a message on Facebook this morning.

I read an article recently that implored me to