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The Art of Waiting

  • Writer: Marc Altmann
    Marc Altmann
  • Jul 30
  • 3 min read

Why not everything grows faster just because we pull on it.


We live in a time when we have become accustomed to things happening instantly.

A message reaches its destination within seconds. Information is available at any time. Something we order today may already be at our doorstep tomorrow.

And eventually, we begin to believe that our lives should work according to the same rules.

We make a decision and expect change.

We let something go and immediately want to know what comes next.

We begin a new path and, after only a few steps, wonder when we will finally reach our destination.

But life follows a different rhythm.

Not everything that grows is immediately visible.

A seed begins its development deep beneath the earth. Long before the first green shoot appears, something essential is already happening.

Roots are forming.

And perhaps it is sometimes the same in our lives.





Just because you cannot see anything yet does not mean that nothing is happening.

There are times for action.


And there are times for waiting.

Wisdom lies in recognising the difference.

Waiting does not mean giving up responsibility for your life or hoping that someone else will eventually solve your problems.

Nor does it mean postponing necessary decisions.

Sometimes we need to act.

Sometimes we need to set a boundary, leave a path behind, or courageously begin something new.

But once we have done our part, there comes a moment when pushing harder will no longer make anything happen faster.

That is when the art of waiting begins.

Perhaps you know this restlessness.

You have made a decision and constantly wonder whether it was the right one.

You have started something new and already want to see the result.

You have let someone go and want to know who will come into your life next.

You have changed inwardly and wonder why your outer world still looks exactly as it did before.




It is precisely in these in-between spaces that we encounter ourselves.

Because waiting reveals how accustomed we have become to creating security through control.

We want to know:


When?

How?

What comes next?


Yet trust sometimes begins precisely where these questions remain unanswered.

There is waiting born from fear.

And there is waiting born from trust.

Waiting from fear constantly watches the clock.

It controls.

It doubts.

It wants to know whether life will meet our expectations.





Waiting from trust has a different quality.

It says:


I have done what I can. Now I give life the space to respond.


This is not passivity.

It is inner maturity.

A gardener does not dig up a seed every morning to check whether it has begun to grow.

He gives it water.

He gives it light.

And then he trusts the process.

Perhaps we can learn to approach our own lives in the same way.

Not every change requires more effort.

Some changes need time.

Not every answer requires more thinking.

Some answers need silence.

And not every door opens because we push harder against it.

Some doors only open when the right moment has arrived.




Patience does not mean that something does not matter to you.

Patience means being able to love something without having to force it.

Perhaps something is growing in your life right now that you cannot yet see.

Perhaps things are rearranging themselves.

Perhaps something old is dissolving while the new has not yet taken visible form.

This in-between space can make us anxious.

But it is not empty.

It is full of possibilities.



We do not have to fill every moment of our lives with an answer.

Sometimes trust means allowing an unanswered question to sit beside us for a while.

Not everything has to be understood today.

Not everything has to be decided today.

Not everything has to happen today.

Perhaps life is not nearly as late as you think.

Perhaps it simply follows a different timetable from the one your mind has created.

And perhaps the art of waiting is learning to continue living, loving and trusting while something new quietly grows its roots in the stillness.

Because when the right moment arrives, you no longer need to force the blossom to open.

It opens by itself.





With warm regards,


Marc Altmann




 
 
 

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© 2026 by Marc Altmann, Alternative Practitioner, Clairvoyant, Spiritual Psychotherapy

Tel.0170 8084397

Schleswig-Holstein, Germany

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