MY OWN WALKING - October Journal 2026

In a recent interview Tyler Staton, talked about how important a place of waiting was in the process of realisation in his faith, which Christian theologians referred to as a state of 'already, not yet'. And whilst the context within which that is framed is different to Buddhist practice, we are, nonetheless, also in a position of waiting as we practice of 'already, not yet'. All that is different, is what we are actively waiting for. What crops up in my mind is - what happens if that actively waiting, becomes passively waiting? And is that what really matters? 

It's as though we are stood by a bus stop waiting for the next bus home, and it's just starting to bucket it down, you're getting completely soaked, but the longer you stand there you find yourself waivering, then digging deeper into your commitment to wait for the bus. You could take back the initiative and decide to walk home, you're already drenched, so what does it matter if you get even wetter? Then at least you'd be doing something constructive to finally get yourself home. What purpose does all this doggedly waiting by the bus stop in the rain serve? What if the bus fails to turn up and you die of exposure? 

One has to ask if there is an overarching purpose behind waiting? And all the stuff about staying actively engaged, commited and purposeful, is that simply a manifestation of our impatience? Of feeling we need to be doing something, not just standing there, getting soaked, looking like a twerp. Where's your initiative man? For Tyler Staton, he is in someway waiting for God to turn up, and though God might seem fickle, his actions unknowable, the waiting itself becomes an exercise in humility, that our egoic humanity tends to rail against. But the term 'already, not yet' tells you something else about the state of waiting. Whatever it is we are waiting to manifest, it's already here, but we cannot presently see, feel or know that. And we cannot see,feel or know that because we persist in perceiving the state of waiting from an individualistic perspective. We wrestle with ourselves whilst we feel the force to 'just wait.'

I am frequently aware of a tendency to take full possession of what I experience in body, speech and mind. I preface everything with an expression of ownership - My this. My that. Everything becomes filtered through the opaquely glazed window of My - My suffering. My desires, My Joy, My practice. My perspective. My awareness. My view. My answer. My integrity. My waiting. My Buddha Nature. My My My My My can we not help ourselves. And whilst we persist in doing this, what is 'already' here, stays resolutely 'not yet'. What is already complete and immaculate, remains seen as incomplete and impure.  There is only one thing bridging between these two viewpoints and that it is the state of waiting. We don't want to wait for anything these days. We want things immediately, or not at all. Nothing, it seems, can be worth waiting for. But waiting requires us to exercise patience, humility and faith. I'd be the first to admit humility is not a strong point, undoubtedly a legacy from years of poor self esteem. I find humility uncomfortable because it feels like you are erasing oneself, and that seems painful. But, here we wait, standing upon the ground of our faith, however infirm that may feel, for Buddha Nature to arise into awareness. We are waiting because there is a need for us to fully mature as spiritual practitioners. And this is our primary struggle, an ongoing tussle with ourselves to let go of insecurity, and likewise the need to be in control of everything. It is though we understand what all the right ingredients for an effective practice are, but can't quite agree on what the recipe is yet. So we are still doing a bit of experimental cooking. Maybe I'll use less salt next time.

It's as though we are pursuing this long distance love affair. Lots of expressions from the heart, of fully felt ardour written down, and posted in romantic letters, asking when the two of you might finally meet up. To which the distant love object sends a selfie, replying coyly - not yet.