go slow

I used to get sucked into this game on Houston highways. It's only a game. There were of course a few times when I was actually trying to get somewhere quickly, when I was running late for a meeting, or a baseball game. But most of the time, when I tried to get ahead, when I tried to find the fastest moving lane, I was just playing the game. I'm sure that game only results in a couple of minutes of early arrival at best.

Sometimes I fear like that game taught me too many lessons. I'm afraid it shaped my thinking more than I realized. I'm afraid the lessons were teaching me to see the moments of life like getting through that traffic.
The governing question becomes "How do I get through/done with/around this?" As if each moment and encounter in life is not a gift.

Now, to be perfectly honest, if a one of those golf carts pulls in front of me while I'm driving through town (especially the rentals) I've been known take a side road to get around them. More often these days, though, I try to take my bike around town. And I think that may be rewiring my brain slowly (slowly) but surely.

In this Collaborative Leadership class I'm taking, we hear this mantra: "Go slow to go fast." You've probably heard it before. The trick is, when I'm playing that go-fast-to-get-this-over-with-game, it seems like I don't have time to go slow. But that's just a game. When I remember that and slow down enough to do the really important stuff, well, the other stuff finds its own pace. I might prefer to alter the phrase some: "Go slow to go sane," or "go slow to go slow some more."

It takes practice, I think. I'm not good at it, but I'd like to be.

As we approach the "ordinary" season after Pentecost, I'm going to practice going slow for myself and for the sake of my community. My days go better when take part of the morning for prayer and reflection. For me, that may look like reading Morning
Prayer, but more often it looks like reading a couple of pages of a book that a friend gave me, sketching a concept I've been turning over in my mind, and playing a couple of songs (this morning they were "City of New Orleans" and "Ben McCullough".)

Now to remember to accept the moments of this day, and the many people I encounter, as gifts, instead of cars blocking my path.