I lived fast for a lot of years…parties, after-parties, concerts, going to work on no sleep. I’ve discovered in the last decade that fast living is not my natural rhythm. Or at least it’s not now, but maybe it never was. I like to contemplate, to daydream, to ponder.
Covid slowed me down even more with a precarious mental state and an identity crisis. In an attempt to put myself down I decided I was lazy. But it’s not that. I’m just finding myself. I’m not very spontaneous. I’m quiet and introverted and I need to know plans ahead of time so I can mentally prepare myself.
When we live too fast and we rush about with the compulsion to be productive and busy, we shortchange ourselves and those we love. We miss the little things. We miss the valuable, beautiful moments that are the very meaning of life. In orchestrating memories and “getting stuff done,” we don’t live in the present moment.
I experienced a lot by living the life I did but I missed a lot too. I spent a good portion of my life alone. I didn’t follow through on building an art career because I was too busy “experiencing life.” I never had a baby and now I’m too old. (Though I am lucky I have a daughter by heart though not by blood.)
Eventually I slowed down. I learned to savor things and to rest and to love myself. I learned that the quiet is a sublime place to be. I don’t miss being busy and I certainly don’t miss feeling run down all the time. I love to sleep 8 hours, to watch movies and play board games with the family. I love to squish my fingers in clay and to make paintings with whatever I have.
I don’t feel the urge to make my mark on the world anymore. I just want to live and love and be happy. Going at a slower pace, respecting my natural rhythm does that for me. Maybe it will for you too.
Until next time,