Momentum has a way of distorting reality.
We can get so caught up in our go-go-go pace of life that we crash and burn when we finally hit the brakes. Even after we decide to slow down, it’s as if our actions and our intentions are in different time zones. The lag between the two can be awkward, uncomfortable, and sometimes even painful.
I knew I was in this space the other day when I walked through a doorway and caught the back of my knuckles hard against the door jam. Purple skin bubbled up to the surface in moments. I cursed the wall, of course, but in truth, it was a sign that I was all too familiar with. My body and my mind were in different time zones.
Lately, my head has run off into the sunset, dreaming of a hypothetical future and all it promises. But my body is firmly in the now, and the now contains things like solid walls and doorways. As impenetrable as my dreams are, my body is a bit more tangible.
I rubbed the back of my hand, took a deep breath, and stopped myself mid-step for 30 seconds.
“What are you running for?” I asked myself.
“There’s not enough time!” was my reply.
“Say’s who?”
My Oogway-esk inner voice smiled. “There will be enough time for what is necessary, Kate. Life is not a race.”
I moaned the way only a teenager can when they hear a parent say some profound and massively annoying truth. But I also moved through the rest of my day with a little more awareness planted in the now.
Doing things faster isn’t the same thing as doing things better. More often than not, it means we’re feeling impatient. At least, that’s what it meant in my case.
I can’t say it’s all my fault, though. In a world that’s all about being faster, better, and stronger, choosing to slow down is revolutionary, and being revolutionary can be scary. It’s going against the grain. It’s swimming upstream, and it can be downright lonely.
Pico Iyer wrote, “In an age of speed, I began to think, nothing could be more invigorating than going slow. In an age of distraction, nothing can feel more luxurious than paying attention. And in an age of constant movement, nothing is more urgent than sitting still.”
The world will keep doing what it’s doing. As much as I want to hide away in some secret world that operates in slow-motion, I live here, in this reality, and the only way to find harmony here is through acceptance.
Don’t hear me wrong. That doesn’t mean we must participate in the hustle. We choose how quickly or slowly we move with deliberation and intention. Not because we have the luxury of having nowhere we have to be, but because we know that speed is not synonymous with progress.
I’ll continue to bump up against the sensation of being behind, and I’ll probably still run into walls and door jams. But for every moment I choose to slow down, a piece of that old narrative falls away and is replaced by a new story that begins like this:
She slowed down, and yet, she arrived on time, all while leaving a trail of seeds to sow a revolution.
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