When passing through enough ups and downs, we suddenly realize that accepting delays is not surrender, but a journey of spiritual maturity, where we learn to get used to the uncertainty of the human world.
Time is inherently a fair flow, but people's sense of it is extremely subjective. We have been angry when a friend arrived ten minutes late, disappointed when the train left the station right in front of us, or more painfully, when a lifetime opportunity slipped out of reach just because of an invisible delay. That resistance stems from the innocent belief that we can control everything. However, reality always reminds us of our smallness.
Getting used to being out of sync is also when we discover the beauty of the gaps. Instead of letting anger bite, we can choose to admire a flower that has just bloomed, observe a strange face on the street, or simply listen to our own breath. If life is always on schedule, will we ever stop to realize that happiness sometimes does not lie at the destination, but lies in the moments of emptiness between two milestones of the journey?
Deeper down, delays are also a metaphor for destiny. We live in a hurried era, where early success is honored as standard, making those who "arrive late" feel left behind. But the philosophy of waiting teaches us that: Each person has a separate time zone and flower season. Fate delays are sometimes necessary preparations, so that when what we are waiting for appears, we have enough steadfastness to receive it most fully.
Accepting delays is also the art of compassion. We tolerate others is also when we tolerate ourselves. Life is not a machine and people are not gears. Breaks make life softer, teaching us to be patient and cherish what we have in the present.
This life has never been truly late, it is just happening in a different rhythm that sometimes our small minds have not yet felt. When we stop looking at the clock needle with anxiety, we will see that everything that comes and goes, sooner or later, is already a perfect arrangement of time.
