My car packed, I continued to ponder the slug's movement. Was there meaning in my encounter with this creature? The obvious meaning was slow down. In today's culture of busyness, we move frenetically. We live under the overarching theme of more ~ more work, more money, more play, more vehicles, more experiences, more house/s, more food, and the ultimate: more time. We act as though the faster we move, the more we can do and acquire. We forget that faster does not equate with better and quantity does not equate with quality. It reminds me of Harry Chapin's song Cat's in the Cradle:
My son turned 10 just the other dayWhat we really need to do is slow down. More than that. We need to pay attention. Follow the trails written in the earth beneath us. Move at a steady, considered pace. Breathe deeply of the dew-soaked, loamy morning air. Touch all we love with tenderness. Allow every sense space to express and explore. Be awake and aware. Let your vulnerability be the voice of your strength.
Said, "Thanks for the ball, now c'mon let's play.
Will you teach me to throw?"
I said, "Not today.
I've got a lot to do." He said, "That's okay."
And he walked away and he smiled and he said,
"You know I'm going to be like you, Dad.
You know I'm going to be like you."
What is your usual pace? Is it the same every day? What do you attend to as you move through your day? When do you slow down? What do you notice when you do? How can you move more slowly and observantly? Do you recognize when you are vulnerable? How do you express your vulnerability? Which of your senses is the strongest? Do you notice how every one of your senses processes the world around you? What one thing can you do to increase your awareness? How many times in the past week have you said something akin to 'not now' to someone or something you love?