It was one of those days. I was traveling to see my parents in Germany and had to transit at Frankfurt Airport. I had built in sufficient buffer time to manoeuvre the massive airport. But things took a turn when I realised the transit required me to practically exit the airport and queue again at security.
It was a Friday morning at the start of the school holidays. The queue was massive, and every few minutes people were allowed to jump the line because they were in transit with only minutes left until their planes took off. It was utter chaos, and we barely moved.
People sighed, complained, and shook their heads. Inside, I could feel that familiar tightness building up … that subtle mix of helplessness and irritation. I wanted to shout, “Just let us through!” or “Why on earth do we have to queue again?” It was dreadful. I was fuming with impatience.
That’s when a beautiful story my P&G mentor, Mike Policastro, had once shared with me popped into my head.
The story was written by Richard Rohr, a well-known Franciscan priest, author, and founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation in Albuquerque, New Mexico. In his earlier years, Richard used to collect mail from the post office and deliver it to his Center:
“… People around the center and at the post office used to tease me by calling me the mailman. I just felt so useful bringing mail back and forth. It was an obsession, really, and every day I would sit at the five-way traffic light at the end of our road.
To my Type A personality, it always seemed like an interminably long light, but one day, it seemed even longer than usual, and this was when I clearly heard God saying to me, ‘Richard, are you really going to be any happier on the other side of Bridge Avenue?’
I had to wonder, ‘If you’re not happy on this side of Bridge Avenue, you’re not going to be happy on that side of Bridge Avenue. So why not just be happy now?’
It’s that simple and that hard. It became a place for my little daily meditation. Every time I stopped at that red traffic light, I thought, ‘Okay, here I get to practice it again. Everything is right here, right now. If I can’t experience God and love and myself and everything that matters on this side of Bridge Avenue, I probably won’t experience it over there.’”
What a beautiful story. If I cannot be present and experience everything that really matters here at Frankfurt Airport before the security check, how will I experience it afterwards?
But this thought actually made me even more impatient … fuming and angry.
Eventually, I scraped through and made my flight connection on time. Yet there was still a lesson to be learned. How can I more effectively make that switch in these seemingly chaotic and unbearable situations?
The answer came from a talk by Stephen Levine.
He introduced the concept of the soft belly … yes, the soft belly … a powerful and instantly effective meditation technique. It’s not about deep concentration or mystical stillness. It’s about softening what tenses up when life doesn’t go our way.
When we lose patience, our bodies usually react first. The shoulders rise. The jaw tightens. And, most of all, the belly hardens, as if bracing for impact. Levine noticed that our abdomen is like a barometer of control. We tense it when we want things to change. His invitation was simple:
“Let the belly be soft.”
Okay, let’s practice this together, here and now.
Take a deep breath into your lower tummy. Feel your belly … not forcing anything … just notice whether it’s tight or soft. Then exhale and gently let it loosen.
Breathe in deeply again and push the tummy out. Keep it soft and relaxed. Yeeeaahhh. Try it again. Tummy out, deeply relaxed. And repeat.
Can you feel a difference?
I personally find it amazing how quickly the body can calm down by applying the soft belly.
The mind may still be impatient, but the body begins to whisper, “You’re safe. You can wait.”
Gandhi once said, “When you lose your patience, you lose the battle.”
We often think victory means getting what we want. But sometimes, the real victory is keeping our peace when everything else is out of our control.
This week, try noticing the moments that test your patience … the red light, the slow download, or the argument with your partner that seems to go nowhere.
Before reacting or losing your patience, take one deep breath and let your belly soften. Take another deep breath and relax your belly even more. One more deep breath in. Soften and deeply breathe out.
It works. Guaranteed. And when you are a little calmer, ask yourself,
“Would I really be any happier on the other side of this moment?”
That small pause might not change the situation, but it could change how you respond … and maybe even change you.
That’s often where the true victory lies.
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