There are things in life that require great contemplation. At what stage of their development should I remove the weeds from the vegetable garden? What should I take out of the freezer for the evening meal? Should I go to the physio for my arthritic knee when there are no guarantees it will help? It must drive my husband crazy but I’ve discovered once I’ve reached the decision, it’s all guns blazing to get the job done. I’ve looked at the vegetable patch for three weeks and the weeds are gone in an hour. Tea is usually sorted by actually opening the door of the freezer and laying a hand on a mysterious parcel but I’ve discovered the physio thing, doesn’t work like that. Slow. That’s what she tells me. None of this up/down, up/down- good that’s one set done…..nope. Slow. Make it count. My physio is a woman of great insight. She’s seen my type before and she has me sussed. Yesterday she gave me instructions for the exercycle. Ordinary, slightly stretching it biking, then blast it for 30 sec. Hot and sweaty and loving it.
Slow also happens now in the car sometimes. I went out to Lincoln the other day. A 20 min trip out to Lincoln on a dual carriageway shouldn’t be as stressful as a Sunday afternoon on the M25 but sometimes it can feel that way when driving the 100Kmh speed limit and getting the evils from the teenager behind you. This time I was the only driver going my way and I got to drive at the speed that felt right for a good viewing of green paddocks and snow capped mountains – 80kmh. I am perfectly capable of driving the speed limit (and beyond) when the occasion calls for it but when it’s just me and the empty road, I’ll probaby be going slow. Because I’ve lived in places where motorways race through mountains and I much prefer to take my time and wonder at it all.
2 thoughts on “Slow”
It’s nice you still have the choice. I think I’ve become a turtle during lockdown. Sometimes I’m on my front and moving – just – and then I’m upside down with arms and legs flailing to try and right myself. My only consolation is the turtle won the race ( with the Hare). Turtles can live up to 200 years so I’ve decided the slow steady use of energy is the key. Stuff the hot and sweaty – I get that from my cancer meds without having to move an inch.
We all have the choice in how we face the day. Sometimes my choices are absolute rubbish but I am pleased to hear you are positive despite the setbacks. Kia Kaha