I love all things slow. It’s the way I was made. Deep down I love to savor and enjoy and rest and just be. I love to take in my surroundings. I love to be quiet. I love to sleep or just lay without hurry in a comfortable bed—I could probably do it for hours on end on a weekend morning. I like to bake sourdough bread over time with all of the intentionality and artistry it takes (even though I do not consider myself a baker or artist)--but I love slow motions, digging in with my hands. I like to sit and read and write for hours. I like to linger over meals and listen to whatever story may be told.
The people who rush to clean dishes I will never understand—dishes will always need to be washed, but the storyteller sitting at the table may be inspired by the sage just in that moment.
Perhaps my love for the slow life was influenced some by the way I was raised too. I have a very southern mother who has her own version of time. In our growing up years, she could be spontaneous and she also knew how to enjoy people and an experience without fighting to get to the next thing. We would plan to leave for a trip one day only to leave the next day instead because why be a slave to schedules and the clock?! I always deeply appreciated the way she did things—even as a kid I recognized the immense value of sitting and listening and really being wherever I was.
I have had moments of feeling bad about my slowness—thinking how the fast-paced person I am with must be going crazy enduring my tortoise-like movements. But in the end, it’s one of my favorite parts of how I was created.
I have a tendency to get focused on tasks—my slowness is like my saving grace. It keeps me from getting lost in my whirlwind attempt (even my slower whirlwind attempt) of keeping life tidy. It keeps me from missing a lot of beauty.
To be clear, I do not think my slow pace trumps others’ paces--there is so much merit to the medium and fast speeds. Honestly, sometimes I desperately wish I was a bit faster in all ways. But in the end, we were all made to walk at a unique cadence. Each has its own saving grace when looked for. Each has something to learn from another. And each has something to share. So, it’s your turn. What’s your pace? What do you love about it? What’s your saving grace?
If I were to share some of what I celebrate most in my steady adagio tempo it would be this: it's the sitting with cozy blanket, walking with another, staying seated after a meal; telling the story; listening to someone else intently, drinking that 3rd cup of coffee, watching the sunset, going on the long hike, seeking after the music, dancing the last dance, looking into an expression, taking that extra five minutes, inhaling a deep breath, punching the punching bag, if that’s what the moment calls for. This sounds very carpe diem, but really what I mean is much more: Live life remembering you’re a soul with a body, not the other way around. Live presently, anticipating what's to come by knowing what's important now. Live watching where your gifts, your story—your being—might intertwine in the grander story being written.
