I have been feeling it in my heart, “slow down” it speaks again and again.
Slow. I do not do slow. Slow is emptiness and quietness and stillness and I am not sure what to do with myself but just be-ness. I don’t like to feel empty, or quiet, or still, and I really love to know what I can do with myself, I like to keep my hands and mind busy, and occupied.
But it keeps coming back- “slow down.” Invite in some empty, quiet, still, times. Just be.
And I have tried, and keep trying. I worry about what I will have to give up or miss if I live in the slowness. What will be left undone or incomplete. I don’t want to leave things incomplete. Incomplete=Failure.
Maybe failure is not = incompleteness. Maybe failure is completing things when you feel a pull to live differently and let go.
The invitation to slow has been coming for a long time, and I have tried and tried to slow down, and slowing down has been a slow process. Giving up a little at a time so I could have more room to slow, but I am finally feeling the peace and joy of slowing down and setting aside.
Some things have become so much more important. Conversations with my husband before bed, sitting around the table as a family as I prepare an evening meal, setting the table together, eating slowly with more intention and joy, and always at the insistence of my little one we play a game. Quiet mornings rocking my baby who has been waking up far too early, and just being with her. Listening to her breath and cuddling in the dark stillness. Reading my scriptures and really pondering the Book of Mormon. Making time to go to the temple where I feel the ultimate sense of peace and slow. Being with the people I love, being in the day I am in. Slowing down means experiencing.
Some things have become so much less important. Phones, social media, trying to fill every hour of the day with something whether it be noise or activity.
So I am practicing slow.
Today it was lovely enough outside to walk to the library. It would have been too cold in the fall, but my desperate need for sunshine in the winter made me brave. My daughter insisted on having ponies in her hair today so I put two little buns on top of her head. One immediately became lop-sided when we left the house but they were so cute, and I love being able to see her face, happy and bright. She pointed out dogs and pinecones to me as we walked. It was slow and quiet, and so beautiful and rich.
Slow might just be good for my soul.