For patience, nothing to do,
Other than not fear what is ultimately true.
This is a shocking verse. Patience seems to be an easy and, as it were, domestic virtue. It's about counting to ten before you speak, and about waiting your turn. Patience is something that children lack and, by inference, adults are expected to have achieved. But for Mila, somehow patience lies at the crux of ultimate truth. Starting from the simple and everyday 'patience', the verse seems to run off a cliff.
What is ultimately true? I don't know. If I don't know what is ultimately true, how can I be said to fear it? It was said that the truth will make us free -- if so, wouldn't we be glad to find it, instead of fearful? If Mila is right, I expect that the reason I do not (think I) know the truth is precisely because I do fear it. If I fear it that much, how do I overcome that fear so that I can know the truth? And what does any of this have to do with patience?
First, we need to rethink patience. It is anything but simple and ordinary. Equanimity may be the better English word. Aquinas, quoting Augustine: "'A man's patience it is whereby he bears evil with an equal mind,' i.e. without being disturbed by sorrow, 'lest he abandon with an unequal mind the goods whereby he may advance to better things.'" Patience is therefore a kind of fortitude; it protects the other virtues so that we can hold to them with an equal mind through the suffering in our lives. The ultimate truth we fear is, I suspect, the first noble truth, that there is suffering, including old age, sickness, and death. Patience is, then, precisely not fearing this; not experiencing the fortunes of our lives as opposition to our desires and needs, and instead experiencing them directly, as what they are.
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