I practice waiting as a small act of resistance.

Being at the mercy of an unhurried clerk or watching the tediously slow minute hand of the clock when I’m stuck with only my thoughts as company, can feel nerve-wracking.

Waiting is hard. My teachers are indigenous old women I’ve watched sitting by their wares in markets in remote villages of Mexico and Guatemala. Quiet, relaxed, they weave colorful scarves or slice the sharp thorns off yucca leaves with a knife, or simply sit on a wooden crate, calm and accepting of the moment.

My practice recquires effort. Standing in line at the bank or the post office, for example, I do not pull out my phone.  I set an intention to be present without distraction. No Wordle, no crossword, no Scrabble, no headlines, no texts. Not easy.

Another small act of resistance I practice, is to not do business with Amazon, even though it offers to almost eliminate waiting. It seemed a very cool thing in 1994, when Jeff Bezos first started a book-selling business out of his Bellevue, Washington garage. He followed his grandfather’s advice to not pass up doing something he would much later regret having missed.  He now calls this a “regret minimization framework.” I ordered a few things from Amazon until I understood the cost of convenience and not having to wait long. For this to be profitable, it means underpaid workers, poor working conditions, unfettered financial growth, and those Rivian vans ($80,000 plus each) delivering almost twenty- four hours a day.

It’s not always easy to purchase things not from Amazon. First, I’ll check out actual stores nearby, and then not so nearby.  I’ll spend time online looking at

E-Bay. Sometimes I choose to do without the object I imagine I really need. That takes some deep breathing. It often requires a walk to the park to re-center. Eventually, I remember I would regret Amazon purchases, I would regret not practicing waiting.

Thus, these small acts of resistance fit perfectly in my “regret minimization framework.”

Selene Aitken

Ashland