Time To Be Slow - John O'Donohue
In praise of slowness
June is upon us. It seems like time is riding on a supersonic jet. The world appears to be busier than before. The natural world, too, is buzzing with life. The canopy of trees is bustling with leaves and flowers. It's a joy to walk around the woods during this season. The bees, insects, snails, and geese shower the woods with their presence. The school nearby my neighbourhood park echoes with the voices of kids. There are moments which feel like a deja-vu. The busyness, the demands of productivity, the need to be on the top of the inbox, the incessant stream of platitudes streaming through the phone— I wonder, is the world back in order?
Everyone around my life seems to be running in the fast lane. I am grateful for the friends and family who are on the go. I feel like I exist in an alternate reality. It feels like I crossed across from the busy world into one that fits my inner terrain. I no longer am in a hurry to race to the top. I want to make it good but more like the tortoise. I want to savour everything that life has to offer me. I want to walk along the snail as it traverses through the crossroads. I wonder if this is the grand entry of middle age. Will my growing attachment to slowness be a heavy price to pay? But then I remind myself of the stream that I stop to observe each day. The flow is never constant. It slows down on some days and gushes on the other days. Maybe slowing down is part of the universal natural order meant to make choices, end, choose, and begin. Know I not, but I sure am enjoying noticing the little things that make life.
In praise of slowness, this week's poem is by philosopher-poet John O'Donohue. He was a gifted poet, and his talks always leave you with deep reflections. The Inner Landscape of Beauty is a podcast that you must listen to if you get a chance. His poetry books are also a wonderful treasure.
This is the Time to Be Slow
This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.
Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.
If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.
Till next time, flow the way that makes you feel alive.
Picture credit: Lisa Adams