In a Waiting Room at Subaru

My search for waiting room enlightenment continues.

This was written behind the large window on the right.

Today is Valentine’s Day.💝

It is a beautiful day. The sky is blue. Mount Fuji is covered in snow.

I am in Shizuoka City, sitting in the waiting room at Subaru while my car is being checked. During other waiting room experiences, such as in doctor’s offices, I have noticed that people here in Japan do not seem stressed while waiting, even when waiting for a very long time. They do not get up and pace or look pointedly at their watches while frowning with angry, expectant faces at nearby staff.

This made me wonder if the space I am occupying while waiting is not the same place that my nearby Japanese companions are in, even though we are sitting next to each other.

Could it be that our lives are different?

I have things to do and places to be that I would prefer rather than being in a waiting room. Is the life of the average Japanese person so terrible in comparison to mine that being in a waiting room is pleasant—a respite from misery rather than an unwanted intrusion into a fulfilling life?

Thinking it was rude to assume the people next to me have horrible, boring lives, I wondered if there was an alternative view. Perhaps I should rethink the experience of waiting itself. Are my Japanese companions simply better at waiting than I am? Is it possible to become proficient at waiting? Is there some sort of waiting room enlightenment?

I am typing these thoughts in Bear (a beautifully simple note-taking App) on an iPhone using a wireless keyboard. I have failed in my search for waiting room enlightenment. Rather than perfecting my waiting room technique, I have merely substituted “doing something while waiting,” turning the waiting room into a writing room.

Perhaps a flaw in my character makes it impossible for me to engage with the waiting experience deeply.

I glance at what I have written to see what I am thinking.

I observe an uneasiness—a reluctance to plunge into a space of my own thoughts that will allow me to leave the space of the waiting room and roam free, like an astronaut exceeding escape velocity.

Alas, I am not even close to a zen-like state of contemplation. But, perhaps by examining my conundrum, I may be able to make some progress.

Is the solution to leave my keyboard and phone at home? Are my thoughts sufficiently worthy to appear in a space free of distractions?

But my time is up.

In a few minutes, my car will be ready. I have to pack up and get ready to go.

When looking at dim stars, it is best to look indirectly at them in order to bring them into peripheral vision, which is much better at discerning poorly illuminated objects. Perhaps becoming better at waiting is like trying to see faint stars. The trick is to stop looking directly for a solution and instead put oneself in a state that is conducive to attaining the peaceful calm that enlightened Japanese waiting room occupants must be surely experiencing, based on the calm, enlightened expressions on their faces.

One day, I hope to find out.