You can slow down. I mean REALLY slow.
From a recent walk along Brighton Beach, Horizon Perfekt with cross-processed Lomo 200 film
I can't remember when my foot pain started--around April or May. About a year after I started running. That I could run at all felt like a small miracle to me, that I kept running through the winter seemed like another. At first I thought I needed new shoes. Then I thought it was the new shoes getting broken in. Then I thought I had overstretched my feet in yoga class. Then came the run-walk combo. A trip to the doctor. A daily foot care regimen and new shoes. And finally, things were looking up.
Then a couple weeks ago I hit my little toe on my husband's shoe, so hard that a good portion of my foot bruised. Earlier this week it was feeling better, and then I hit it again on a chair while cleaning my studio. It's been back to limping ever since.
I tend to believe that life will do whatever it takes to teach us the lessons we most need. After nearly five months of issues with my feet, I promise: I'm listening.
I've had a chronic problem with speed--I can't feel it well, the way some people can't feel if they are hungry or full. You're going really fast, my friends have told me before. Really? I say. I couldn't tell.
I'll do some things to slow down, like knitting a hat and reading a book at the same time. It's hilarious, usually, to see how bad my attempts are. Even in leisure, I pick things that allow me to measure and mark my progress.
I remember during the run-walk combo days, looking at the runners and bicyclists shooting by me with envy. Why couldn't I go fast, too? Why couldn't I run? Even children can run.
But today I went back up to the meadow, gingerly stepping and spending more time on my left foot than on my right. I went because I needed to see the morning sun and be with the trees. Hobbling along, I finally knew that nothing was wrong. I shared the lanes with dog-walkers, runners, bicyclists and I could see that we are all on the same path. I know this in my work more and more all the time, too--that it's not about my work, but about the work. That I am just one voice in a larger conversation. Others are sprinting through it, or racing in crowds. But the people going fast may not know what it's like to feel the rising sun soak slowly into their faces; they are probably unfamiliar with the feeling of the tree trunks beneath their hands. They bring something of their own to the path, to the conversation, but even limping along--so do I.
The more slowly I go, on foot or through my daily tasks or creative work, the more I sense there is something old and wise underneath the bustle. Some treasure to unearth in the slowness that will become my gift to my fellow travelers, my contribution to the path.
I can use all the help on really learning this lesson that I can get, so if you have any wisdom to share about slowing down--and I mean REALLY slow--please share it in the comments.
Friday, August 27, 2010 at 8:27AM | Share Article 9 Comments | Email Article Print Article | Permalink | in creative work
Reader Comments (9)
love this. needed. this. thank you, jen. to slow down, i dance first. it gets me out of my head and into my body. then the sacred silence, stillness, solitude and slow seem much more possible.
It sounds like you are already doing what I do when I need to slow myself down. Unplug and get outside! Look at the sky, the trees, the sun, the ground. Smell the air, the pine trees, the flowers. Breathe and walk. Thanks again for the reminder!
One of the revelations from my recent retreat was my tendency to speed up when I get tense or stressed, real dervish behavior, so now I'm trying to do the opposite. When dinner's late and a thousand things are happening at once I just stop and wash a dish with real intention or sit down and knit for five minutes. This forcing myself to get out of the fast lane has made a huge difference for me.
This was so beautifully expressed Jen. Slowing down is the best. One sees things that nobody else sees, and feels things that nobody else feels. To add to the experience, breath slowly both in and out through your nose. The nose is a smaller passageway than your mouth, so this naturally slows down your breath, which in turn calms your nervous system. Thanks again and enjoy this beautiful moment.
Oh boy. I'm a chronic speeder, and the only thing that actually taught me to slow down was being locked down in a UN compound in Afghanistan alone every weekend for 6 months. There was nowhere to go and nothing to do except very slowly try to convince the wild kittens living in the construction rubble to let me pet them. I slowed down and I discovered incredible depths of wisdom in that space. But back here in NZ? I'm speeding all over the place. I slow down on my yoga mat, and on my meditation cushion. That's about it.
All power to you as you walk the slower path. Maybe I can come walk it with you for a bit when I come to NYC later this month!
I totally relate! I love the way you put it: I also have trouble feeling speed. I don't always know when I am going too fast. Until I hit a wall. Fast.
It's not something I am great at, resting. But when I need to go really slowly, I spend a day in my pajamas. And sleep until I am slept out. Also, afternoon naps. And walking more slowly instead of at the 'get there and get exercise' pace I usually employ.
<3
take a long bath. no books or music or even cleansing really. just lying there, wading, blowing bubbles under the water if your heart so desires.
lay in bed after you bath, wrapped in your towel. let your hair go frizzy. put on a record. close your eyes. see what happens.
let the hunger in your belly sit there for a little while. then make yourself a very intentional meal. eat it slowly, loving every bite.
whisper an entire story to yourself in bed, without recording it or holding onto it. just whisper it and listen to it float away.
for me, i move fast as a way of needing control, needing to make a mark, needing to avoid loss and hold onto _____ (success, beauty, youth, life). the things above help me embrace the inevitable passing moments by allowing me to experience them more fully.
love to you.
This was sooo interesting to read! because the same thing happened to me.
i was avoiding lots of things (true grieving over a loved one being one thing)
and going a hundred miles an hour, and then i broke
my toe, a month before a triathalon i had signed up for.
I did acknowledge the same thing; a message to slow down.
And it worked.
Loved reading about your experience and insights. :)
This is a very little thing, but I learned from a wise woman a few years ago - to first notice when you are NOT breathing. She said to write a note to myself on my hand if it helped. Put sticky notes around the house. But find a way to remember to notice your breath. When I did, that I realized how much I HOLD my breath. How shallowly I breath. It is still work to remember to breath regularly and smoothly but it helps so much when I do it. And of course..unplug. If I need to truly relax, I have to unplug the computer, the tv, the dvd, the phone and the radio. To not knit. or read. To just sit still and watch and think. To really do nothing. This also takes work. But it allows me to immerse myself in the living, breathing, dancing, whispering, laughing, world. Which is where I want to be.