As my husband and I were sauntering through the Target parking lot on the way to get groceries, I was suddenly overwhelmed with a tirade of conflicting emotions. What happened to the get-up-and go sense of purpose about our movements? Neither one of us ever did anything at the slow and easy Southern pace we railed against. Why were we sauntering? for God's sake? like we weren't sure of our destination or our purpose?
The fact of the matter is, we don't have the same destination or sense of purpose we once had. That's not to say we don't have a purpose. But we are no longer driven to "achieve", to conquer, to win. A part of me says, wow, what the heck is wrong with you! Are you depressed? Are you giving up? have you succumbed to southern ways? Maybe you're sick! I'm truly not sure I'm ready to "slow down" in the old sense of the words. I don't feel old.
And yet, underneath the color, my hair is gray. The lines around my eyes are noticeably present and I'm grateful my husband has lost his eye sight when he looks at me up close. My hands are begining to look frightfully like my mother's. And slower just feels better.
Life in the slow lane has its perks. I can take the time to ponder my next move, take a picture of a butterfly, breathe in the cool fall air, sit quietly and enjoy the moment. I can think about what really is important in life and not only give it lip service but live it as well. I don't have to hitch my wagon to every new thing that comes down the pike and I can listen to classical music instead of rock when I clean.
Life in the slow lane has a richness and a depth that always was there, but that I refused to take the time to pay attention to. Now I can let it seep into my bones. I can become one with life, the universe and beyond. I can allow myself to be molded by all that is and not lose myself in the process. I can walk at an easy pace and enjoy the process of moving through space and time. Free of the driven-ness required of purpose and achievement, I can just be...like the butterfly.
The fact of the matter is, we don't have the same destination or sense of purpose we once had. That's not to say we don't have a purpose. But we are no longer driven to "achieve", to conquer, to win. A part of me says, wow, what the heck is wrong with you! Are you depressed? Are you giving up? have you succumbed to southern ways? Maybe you're sick! I'm truly not sure I'm ready to "slow down" in the old sense of the words. I don't feel old.
And yet, underneath the color, my hair is gray. The lines around my eyes are noticeably present and I'm grateful my husband has lost his eye sight when he looks at me up close. My hands are begining to look frightfully like my mother's. And slower just feels better.
Life in the slow lane has its perks. I can take the time to ponder my next move, take a picture of a butterfly, breathe in the cool fall air, sit quietly and enjoy the moment. I can think about what really is important in life and not only give it lip service but live it as well. I don't have to hitch my wagon to every new thing that comes down the pike and I can listen to classical music instead of rock when I clean.
Life in the slow lane has a richness and a depth that always was there, but that I refused to take the time to pay attention to. Now I can let it seep into my bones. I can become one with life, the universe and beyond. I can allow myself to be molded by all that is and not lose myself in the process. I can walk at an easy pace and enjoy the process of moving through space and time. Free of the driven-ness required of purpose and achievement, I can just be...like the butterfly.
1 comment:
Touching post...I hate aging lol!
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