This, too, shall pass.
One of my mother's favorite pieces of advice--true advice, too. But when you're in the moment through which you wish to pass? Infinite discomfort (or so it seems). But it *does* pass; we know this. We've lived this truth. Nonetheless, we're always waiting--waiting for the beginning, the ending, when (really), it's ALL ending and beginning. Simultaneously.
That's the trippy thing about time and our perception of it, our experience of it. Every inhale is the beginning of a new cycle (new life, if you will) and every exhale a death (an opportunity to move on). Both are miraculous gifts--to acquire anew and to leave behind, in every moment. So, if we squint our experience down to the moment (what we like to term mindfulness), then we realize it IS passing. All the time. And coming back.
So there's our proof. (Math was never my strong suit, but I do remember really liking proofs...). Endings, beginnings, even *within* and *while* we wait.
Because, really, there is no waiting. There is only this thing called living.