The hell?
Isn’t this supposed to be the slow season? Long, quiet days followed by evenings knitting, reading or otherwise being active in a very non-active way?
Maybe it’s just me. Maybe part of my DNA is still evolving through its sloth stage.
The other day I went to do my favorite yoga dvd only my computer ate it and after a frustrating 18 minutes (or so, I mean, really who’s counting right? I mean, you would never actively watch how many minutes are going by as they are being wasted by a technical caulk-up, would you? Of course not.) I gave up and reached for an old Baron Baptiste cd I had kicking around and threw that into the Bose.
Hell if that Baron boy doesn’t give yoga prompts that would be great if I were, you know, a hummingbird and able to move at 300 wingflaps per second– or 3,000 or however fast hummingbirds shake it.
All I know is he lost me about three minutes into it so I just shelved it and did some kind of yoga aberration of my own making.
But it made me wonder– am I just slow? And by slow, I mean– abnormally slow? Because I am feeling like I just can’t keep up and that is plain silly when I have pared my life down to such basics. I have pared my life down so that I can enjoy a leisurely pace– but it’s not feeling so leisurely of late. It is feeling like one minute I’m reaching down for a bit of pretty sea glass, I blink and the next minute the tide is coming in and I’m up to my waist.
Please don’t tell me I am old– I am sure that is what is really going on– but it’s hard to acknowledge being old AND winter– so let’s just say I’m slow. Because — it is Friday and my desk is loaded– my email is just ludicrous. Really– that is the only word for my email box. Absurd.
Or, maybe it is some kind of French existentialist play where I valiantly try to reduce the numbers only to find more pouring in. These are in no way complaints– I hope– I certainly don’t feel like I am complaining– just blowing out puffs of steam about the fact that I need an attitude adjustment.
Yes.
Let things fall. Let things not get done. Slip into the flow of the messy side of life and stop wrestling with it and try to make it sit at the table, hands in its lap and behave, damnit.
Oh please– surely you know me by now. . .
bisous, e
*because you KNOW I’d always run it on ‘delicate cycle’
Can I relate to your situation E. Sometimes life feels like a waltz, the rhythm or pace I prefer, and I can keep up with the minutia of life. Then all of a sudden I'm doing the jive and I wonder what the hell just happened. I don't know if that inability to keep up is all about getting older. If it is I'm just gonna hang up my shoes and go home right now. Sometimes I think not being able to keep up is all about my mood, maybe for the day or the week. I don't know. But this quick change in life pace sure has me scratching my head at times, and I hope like the dickens it's not about aging. I'd hate to see how I function in another ten years.
Hang in there.
Bridgemor
Ha Ha Elizabeth no-one could/should call you slow. But I do believe yoga is so much more enjoyable with others.. My solo yoga practice sucks…i just need a mat next to mine. But what do I know?
Delicate, my ass. Also, delicate, schmelicate. Delicate is for wusses.
yes I admit – I've timed my “technical caulk-ups” all 221 of them that caused me to loose over 75.5 hours of my life…only kidding..but this made my day……sending you my washing machine – it gets it all done in 33 minutes…wow…
I love being slow, Elizabeth. I am part of your slow tribe- you are not alone, nor are we old, can I say? I mean, life is just so stupidly fast anyway, so slow feels better. I cannot get in to the whole resolution thing or be energized new year stuff even- I usually try each year, but meh… I bought one organizational thing for my mess of an apartment and it sits next to what I need to organize. “Need.” 🙂 Have a lovely, slow day.
oh,you funny vixen you. i got quite the grin out of 'caulk up.' i'm pretty sure you meant 'cock-up.' there's even a term for such slipups: eggcorn. check out http://eggcorns.lascribe.net/ for some highly entertaining reading.
me too, delicate all the way..