Slow vs fast. What is the best pace for living?
If slow is the best pace for living, why do days go by so fast?
I have been declaring that ‘slow’ is my pace, and that taking my time will get me to where I am headed more surely than rushing, stumbling or taking the wrong path. And yet, everything about me is going fast. Even the sun and moon seem to cycle faster some days than others.
For example, I use a daily planner that lasts for 3 months. I just started it…was that yesterday? Already I am halfway to the end.
A week used to be seven days long but somehow my weeks have sprung a leak, letting Wednesdays (and sometimes Thursdays) disappear like water down the drain.
And I used to think I would never grow up (some people still feel that about me), and suddenly I am in my golden years. Well, calendars and aging are not in my power to change so I’ll focus on what I can affect when it comes to speed.
In recent years I managed to slow down my driving, and I walk at a gentle pace by necessity. Yet, I am concerned about arriving ‘on time’ no matter where I am headed.
Apparently I have an inner clock that runs contrary to my intention to live life slow, so even while moving at a decent pace, I have the feeling that I need to hurry a little faster or….or what? I wonder if I am afraid there is a party that will go on without me.
But didn’t the tortoise win the race?
I often remind myself that the tortoise won the race against the hare. I use it as my mantra as I practice taking measured steps so I can enjoy every flower that I pass. At least outwardly I am all tortoise — unhurried, observant, close to the ground for stability. 
But I have an inner rabbit that wants to be everywhere at once.
The evidence for that is found in a stack of half-read books by my chair, a folder of roadmaps outlining several daytrips for when the weather warms up, and a propensity to sign up for online classes for writing haiku and how to play the ukelele.
And I haven’t yet mentioned the classes I am creating to teach online. It’s really no wonder my weeks leak their Wednesdays!
The pace of nature
“Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson
I thought I found the answer in Ralph Waldo Emerson’s line: the secret to slowing down is to adopt the pace of nature. This may be true if we observe the growth of an oak tree.
Some days I live a rooted life like a giant oak tree, patiently producing and sharing acorns around my sphere of influence in a sacred forest of many other humans. Oh how my ego loves this image of strength and stability. And holiness!
Nature’s pace is not necessarily slow
So what do I do with the chipmunk in me? The one who only has one speed…fast! I scamper throughout the same forest of humanity searching for nuggets of wisdom I can store up for the future.
My head turns at every shiny thing. I hoard as if there would be no tomorrow. Isn’t a frenzied squirrel a part of nature too?
Last week I found myself ranting at a situation I found difficult. I was more like a wildfire, ripping through a patch of nature without hesitation or restraint.
Like a tornado, I exploded with the kind of fury that changes the landscape. Is not weather part of nature too?
I’m sorry. I don’t buy that all of nature is embodied in wildflowers and turtledoves, nor is it necessarily patient.
Honestly now…what does it mean to adopt the pace of nature if we only consider a flower garden and not the weeds and mushrooms that spring up overnight? But I do believe that all of creation has secrets to teach us about the rhythm and tempo of being human.
Are we holier for living a life in the slow lane of solitude and prayer
then we are when marching in protest against racism or hunger?
What can be learned about the best pace(s) for living from nature?
I know there is a divine plan for all creation. Even squirrels. I don’t have to know why they run in circles. Nor do I judge them. Scampering rabbits, flooding streams, fierce winds and hungry squirrels all teach me about how to make music in my life by changing the tempo when needed.
My conclusion is that it is all good.
Slow is a wonderful pace for being present, for staying safe, for listening and digesting, for growing deep roots and having stability.
Fast is for responding to a sudden need, to be able to pivot a viewpoint, to be flexible to changing situations, for preventing catastrophes.
It is all good.
[Images from Unsplash: Calendar-by-Dari-Ili-; tortoise-Melissa-Keizer;Oak-tree-by-Michal-Matlon; Hare-by-Jason-Leung; flooding-stream-by-Viktor-Mogilat;Chipmunk-by-Vincent-van-Zalinge]
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