Russellings of the Spirit

Time passes.

Things change.

The fresh, new, and exciting slowly becomes the stale, old, and predictable. 

Energy that once sprang from a bottomless reservoir now trickles sparingly, as if dripping from a clogged waterspout.

Possibilities begin winking out one by one… like the lights of a remote fishing village moving from midnight to pre-dawn.

The same applies to me. Early in my career as a human, I used to walk fast. Stride, stride, stride, stride. Vigorous. Purposeful. Always in a hurry. Never quite enough time to get from Point A to Point B. Checking my watch and multitasking as I went.

I’m sure you’ve heard footsteps of the kind of person I used to be. Whenever I heard those staccato, purposeful steps approaching me from behind, I always had to turn my head. My first thought was usually, “I wonder if I am about to be mugged.” But then I relaxed, realizing it’s just someone on their way to somewhere.

Lately, though, I have slowed down.

Considerably.

I first throttled down from FULL to ¾ speed when I retired. Though I no longer had any place I needed to be RIGHT NOW, I wanted to continue living with a sense of urgency… taking nothing for granted… drinking deeply from each day’s bubbling fountain.

But then came the excruciating lower back pain in early May, slowing me – LITERALLY some days – to a crawl.

Today my back is a bit better, thanks. Treatments, injections, massages, adjustments, exercise, and even some wacky stuff have all helped. But despite that improvement, I continue to be a slow walker. 

Now I take my time getting from here to there. 

I breathe deeply along the way. I look around. I study the trees, yards, houses, dogs, and people I pass. I let them speak to me. I treat them the way a trained sommelier treats that first mouthful of wine from a newly opened bottle of 1949 Domaine Leroy Richebourg Grand Cru. (Not that we have that vintage on the shelf here at Chez Brown. I just Googled, “What is the name of a really expensive wine,” et VOILA!)

Since I just celebrated a significant birthday yesterday (one that ends in a “0”), I have declared to myself that I am absolutely permitted to slow down a bit. 

I am still – hopefully – a long way away from adopting the Old Man Shuffle step. But fair warning! If you are a young, busy career person dashing through the aisles of the grocery store to pick up a few things on the way home, you DON’T want to be stuck behind me.

As I pause and think about it, I must admit; I am coming to like this new, slower, more deliberate me. But it does seem odd in a way. Younger me… the one with a whole lifetime ahead of him… was always in a hurry to get somewhere. Whereas older me… the one whose days here in this vail of tears are MUCH more numbered… is very OK with taking it slow and easy. 

NEWS FLASH: In case you haven’t guessed, NONE of these reflections are at all new or earth-shattering in their significance.

Jesus – the guy whose mission was to save Creation – regularly carved himself out times of quiet, stillness and solitude. Long before Jesus’ time the psalmist wrote, “Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10, NRSV). And let’s not forget the story about Elijah’s flight from the wrath of Queen Jezebel when he met God in the middle of the “sheer silence.” (1 Kings 19:12, NRSV) in the desert. 

No… while the notion of slowing down and smelling the coffee may not be new or revolutionary, it is somewhat noteworthy that I have finally stumbled upon it. 

And if I REALLY want to complete the “old guy trifecta,” I will next take up whittling and golf. 

Abundant blessings;