Wednesday, April 21, 2010

A small poem in praise of slowness...

I am a dawdler in a world of lets-get-there-yesterday people.  I've always been a dawdler.  As a child my mum used to ask me, regularly, what on earth took me so long to walk home from school.  I could turn a 20 minute walk into an hour and 20 minute meander.  Off in my own world, day-dreaming and only half aware of my surroundings, I trusted my feet to take me home (eventually), while my mind was busy with other things.  I never do anything in a hurry, I take forever to weigh up the pros and cons, and then when I actually start, it still takes me forever.  I'm a slow peg stuck in a fast hole...or maybe that should be stuck fast in a hole?  I've never had a speeding ticket, and I've been driving for over 20 years.  I can't see the point in speeding.  What's the point in being 5 minutes early if you arrive a nervous wreck and your blood pressure is that of a whippet on speed?  I like to enjoy the scenery.  I like to look up at the clouds through the windscreen.  Well, not so much that I don't notice the truck in front has just put its brake lights on, but enough to actually feel like I'm on a journey.

Slowness is a lost art I think.  We seem to have forgotten how to be slow, to walk instead of run..or dawdle instead of walk.  To stop and smell the roses, as they say.  Fast-track, fast food, fast lane, drive-thru, instant download, instant credit, why wait get it now...where are we all rushing to anyway?  Is it that important, can it really not wait?  We all know what's at the end of this great journey, so why be in such a hurry to get there?  Enjoy the ride!

So here is a small poem on being a slow peg in a fast hole...if you like it, I'll admit it's mine, and if you don't, I'll tell you I just happened upon it while web-surfing.  ;-)

I am swimming against the current
      in this headlong rush to death.
I have no taste for haste
                      for speed.

I would rather wallow in my slowness
      turning lazy circles in the shallows
      marking the passing of the hours
      the sun riding high and low
      the shadows gliding short and long.

And I will arrive at my destination long after you
      are white bone pounded into dust
      on the unforgiving shore of pointless craving.


Michelle said...

I am the complete opposite, I am a "woman of action" haha. If I get an idea in my head, then watch out. I just don't know how to move slowly and enjoy things. I've tried.

Mabye I should have a slow motion day?

I loved your poem anyway : )

p.s. hahaha, my word verify is hyperee

dinahmow said...

I like your poem. And your attitude.

Ruthie Redden said...

That is a beautiful piece of writing, one to be proud to put your name too ;-) i totally agree with you, what is the rush. The very reason i moved my kids & i up to this deliciously quiet corner of scotland was to escape the mad rush of life in the city. i heard folk grumbling that it was like stepping back in time in these parts, oh yippee thought i, just the place i yearn to be. and it is! a slower rythm, things get done when they get done & its wonderful, so much more time to notice. have a grand day x x

A mermaid in the attic said...

Thanks ladies! Actually Michelle, when I thought about it, I CAN move quite fast sometimes, once I've finally made up my mind what it is I want to's the procrastinating and prevaricating that takes up so much time! Ruthie, I'm hoping to move my family to the countryside, possibly next year. I crave peace and space to think and work, and I also want my girls to have fresh air and space to play and explore. My parents-in-law moved a couple years ago and are loving it, and the interesting thing is that, while in the city we're surrounded by so much 'stuff to do' that I think we get blase about it, and actually don't do anything, whereas in the country, people seem to make more of an effort because there isn't as much going on all the time. Special events become more special.

Carol Anne Strange said...

There is nothing like slow time to really connect with what is important. A lovely poem and a reminder for us all to enjoy the slowly slowly rhythm of life. xx

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