Friday, February 12, 2010
Lessons in the Art of Slow - A Day Late
Do forgive my tardiness! It seems the week has flown away from me and I've been a day behind since Sunday.
This living slow business: it seems the further along I go I meet more and more who are wanting it, craving it. I meet others who are adopting it, experimenting with it. And yet, when I turn the corner, they are not the people before me, the ones I see with my waking eyes.
It's sad, to me, that so many are caught in the web of rushing when really they are trapped. Trapped in a widow's web of always running, never arriving.
I work for a company that trouble shoots technical issues predominately for medical offices. Doctors are necessary, modern medicine (at times) a blessing. But the hassle and the demanding attitudes that accompany these places all fill me with sadness. Important, yes. Reason for panic attack? No. No, no, and again I say no.
A thought has stemmed from these constant occurrences, two actually (possibly more). I suppose it goes along with my pondering from Woolgatherings. If we were all to follow our own path, not the path given, forced, expected, dictated - our own, what would happen? Why the world would stand on its head! The loose change would fall from our pockets into the outstretched hands of the beggars. They were don purple velvet coats and become the philosophers of the age!
Writers would be celebrated for originality and not for revenue. Artists would paint portraits of dog sitters and ballet dancers. Chefs would cook hamburgers, gourmet cheesecakes and caviar encrusted cheese balls. Doctors would have compassion, lawyers would tell the truth, sales clerks would sell with passion. Magicians would walk, their wands would be pencils and words of inspiration would appear under overpasses.
What if we all walked in our calling? If we all shed the pretense of just getting by? Fast food service would be happier and a wait in the ER would be endurable. To operate in our gifts - to live in a world that operated in flow of gift and love for the work of our hands. My soul leaps, dear reader, at the possibilities.
Stay cozy, dear ones,
The Lady of the Manor