It's said, by some guru I can't credit, that when we are triggered, the experience triggering us is a reflection of ourselves. If this sage quote holds true, then we are meant to reflect and learn the life lesson that the experience is offering.

That's cute, but reflection is seldom my first response to a trigger. First, I become irritated.

But I've read personal growth books, I've taught personal growth courses, I practice yoga and meditate, and really, I should know better. So when my woke self pokes, I am reminded to reflect: What am I supposed to learn from this triggering situation?

Lately, this lesson has been patience. And by "lately", I mean all my life. All my life, I have been learning to practice patience.

The struggle is the kaleidoscope of context in which patience is tested and learned, or tested and failed, over and over again.

I feel I leave behind a trail of giant F's on my score card when it comes to trials of patience. And you can surmise how colorful I paint the trail with all things F.

A baby stick bug landed on my porch screen the other night, and, true to my inner witch, I Googled the spiritual meaning of such an insect. An insect that was so delicately and nearly invisibly perched on the inside-the-house part of my screen door.

The search results offered up several meanings, one of which was the quality of "patience".

For F's sake.

A few variations and definitions were also described, and likely meaningful to someone else Googling the spiritual meaning of stick bugs that night. But the "patience" definition stuck with me.I nodded to the Universe. "Noted."

The next day, I paid a visit to my neighbour, whose pup is best friends with Roo. When her pup hears the engine of my truck approach, she runs to the gate on the side of the house to wait, a much-loved doggy toy firmly, and joyfully, gripped in her jaws.

Roo bounds (yep, three-legged dogs can bound with impressive agility and speed) straight to the gate and through, and off they go! Chasing each other amongst my friend's luscious, jungle-scaped property.

"There's a boa in my tree", was the line she greeted me with. "I think it might have eaten a bird or a baby monkey, but all the birds are upset."

She relayed the info casually, and I responded with semi-heightened vocals, but equally casual, "Really? Wow! A boa in your tree.. . . So how are you? Do you mind if I get a glass of water?"

And we settled into her porch chairs to catch each other up on how our days had gone, the pups running laps through the jungle garden beyond. The boa quietly digesting somewhere in the treetops above us.

Such is life in Nicaragua.

A boa is a pretty cool snake, for sure. Especially a possible 6–8 foot long boa, ensconced amongst the crooks of high, leafy branches, likely dozing in a food coma after swallowing a huggable-sized mammal.

But no threat was imminent.Any damage had already been done. (Eaten.)The birds continued to sound the alarm, alerting iguanas, squirrels, and possums.Our pups were safe, racing past bushes and pathways and ultimately exhausting themselves in the shade at our feet.Jungle life goes on.

My neighbour then asked me, "What do you think it means?A boa in the yard?"

Back inside Google I dove, only to discover, with mild irritation, that patience was one of the qualities of a boa. (You know, the ol' boas up there, patiently waiting for their prey, then once caught, patiently waiting for the giant lump in their body to digest so they can slither on to the next tree laden with bird nests and monkey babies.)

Patience Patience PATIENCE.

Sometimes, I have very little.

But the last few days of signs from bugs and beasts, and nudges from friends to Google the interference in our daily fabric has repeatedly led to the theme of patience.

Taking this sign on board, I have since tried to begin my days by practicing patience with intention.

Practicing patience in the heat of the moment is where failure waits, sneering at me.

But in my calm, birdsong-filled mornings on my back porch, coffee and pets near, it's easier.

With mild awareness of what the day might bring, I focus on patience.I tune my mind to that channel like it is my favorite radio station.

I exercise with my dumb bells, and I think the word "patience" with each rep. The mantra actually focuses my workout, which is a fun addition. It slows down each hammer curl, each chest press.

Lifting weights to a personal mantra brings feeling to thoughts in a way that a walk through a sunshine field of blooming flowers does not.

Each rep takes effort, is purposeful, and slow, engraining "patience" into my mind.In this way, when triggering situations arise, as they are sure to, perhaps my mind will learn to default to patience instead of panic (or anger or irritation or whatever).

And I practice this intention setting with FEELING. We have to mean it, or it doesn't count.

When reactive thoughts enter my mind, or that self-defeating loop of negative awfulizing, I hope my trained mind responds with patience before anything else.

Anyway, I feel I've reached the "moral of the story" part of my writing, so I'll wrap it up and get back to my coffee and pets.

If defaulting to patience leads to a more positive experience in our day, then practicing with more intention before the triggers hit is what we need to lean into.

Because if we don't, we can bet we'll see more stick bugs perched on our porch screens and more boas waiting patiently amongst the branches in our trees.

~ Christy

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Originally published at https://venture-within.com on March 13, 2026.