Waiting is the one thing we all practice constantly, yet no one ever gets better at it.

Think about it. Nobody says, “You know what? I’ve really improved my waiting this year.” There’s no mastery. There’s no belt system. You’re just standing there, existing, staring at nothing.

Waiting is life’s way of saying, “Not yet,” without any explanation. You’re waiting for coffee, waiting for a meeting to start, waiting for the light to turn green when there is clearly no traffic. That’s my favorite. No cars. Nothing happening. And you're just waiting.

And why do we always assume waiting means something is about to happen? We’ll stand at baggage claim, watching the same empty belt go around like it’s thinking about producing luggage. It’s not thinking. It’s a loop. You’re the one with hope.

Waiting rooms are especially cruel. They don’t even try to entertain you anymore. A chair, a plant that’s barely alive, and a TV mounted too high, playing a show nobody chose.

And the second you stop paying attention, that’s when your name gets called. You could be staring directly at the door for twenty minutes, and nothing. Look down at your phone for half a second? “Mitch?” Oh, now you’re ready?

Waiting teaches patience, they say. No. Waiting teaches irritation with a polite face. You’re not calm. You’re just socially required not to scream.

But here’s the truth: most of life is waiting. Waiting for answers. Waiting for results. Waiting for things to make sense. The trick isn’t eliminating the wait. It’s realizing that the waiting is the thing.

So next time you’re stuck waiting, don’t fight it. You’re not behind. You’re not late. You’re just right on schedule… for nothing to happen yet.