When Slow is Fast

What do you see in this photo? The light post? The puddle? The gutter? The buildings? Or are you much further ahead? Is your mind already peaking around that corner wondering where the street leads?

I am not so great at the Here and Now.

I try.

Really I do.

But I can only manage the present in small doses. After that my mind is already at the edge of the next building, the next day, the next year or an alternative reality. Maybe that's because my Here and Now sometimes looks a lot like sitting in gutter, contemplating reflections in the glassy puddles hoping it won't rain again just yet because I am still sitting outside my life.

My husband is a Here and Now kind of guy. He misses most of the puddles in life and wonders why my feet are wet.

He's the romantic soul staring up at the light post saying, "Tab, you have to see this street when it's all lit up."

"It lights up?"

"Oh yeah, streets always light up."

"They do?"

"Sure they do. You just have to wait."

Waiting...yeah... I am not so good with the waiting...

That would entail Stillness. Reflections need stillness. Ever thought about how little you see of yourself if you are running past a mirror?

Finding things, really seeing things, often requires stillness. And I like to move. Just breathing and being... wow... I find that very hard.

But when I write and I can still me inside. The racing down roads, banging my head against brick walls or trying to slip around corners I have no hope of reaching can be stopped and I am still.

In that stillness I hear myself.

I see myself.

I find the whispering.

And I am able to listen.

A wise woman told me that stillness might really be fast, and fast is often slow. Because sometimes the quickest way to ourselves, to the Here and Now and all the beauty we seek, is in the going slow.

Fast just races.

It doesn't necessarily find what it is looking for. And fast has a tendancy to get lost a long, long way from home.

Fast often needs to back track.

Stillness feels its way down streets and notices the lamp post. It has time to wait for the lights to turn on. It finds puddles, but can also see its own reflection. Stillness has a better chance of finding what it is looking for because it is hard to miss what you are purposefully slowing down to notice.

No wonder I love to write and find myself in words.

What about you? Where do you find yourself on the street of life? What does your writing say about you and where you pull your words from?