A kind and radical slowing down
Leave urgency behind. That was a suggestion from an article I read recently, and ever since I read it, I can’t get it out of my head.
This has always been tough for me, but it became even harder after I was diagnosed with cancer. I knew—in a way that I never had before—that I would die, and I wanted to hurry up and get as much done as I could before that happened.
There’s another reason. About a year ago, someone who had an uncanny sense of who I was and what I’d been through without me telling him a thing looked at me and said very seriously, “There is no time to lose.”
My gut clenched. What did he know that I didn’t? Was the cancer back?
Then his eyes softened. “But there is no hurry.”
The moment unnerved me. What the hell did that mean?
I’m still not sure I have an answer, but this feels imperative to think about, because for some of us, urgency runs our lives. We have an almost overwhelming sense of “hurry up and get it done.” This means we are rarely living where our feet are. When we live with urgency, our eyes are always on the goal. We can become impatient, frustrated, waiting until this or that happens. And if it does, it often doesn’t satisfy. We are already looking ahead to that next thing that needs our attention. We spend our days in the not yet, the not done. Life and work become toiling.
There are other reasons we live with urgency. The world is always ready to tell us how we are not enough, so we need to prove the world wrong. Or we might not trust ourselves. We might feel we are sure to mess things up, forget something big, so energy gathers like a freight train, and we barrel through life to prove that we are capable. And isn’t there always that urge—to get up and do something?
Of course, goals can be wonderful, and there are times when things must be done—and sometimes quickly. That is one of the truths of modern life. But must we always live at the pace of the Autobahn?
Perhaps, the more difficult question is are we willing to give up living a life of urgency? The speed associated with that kind of life can be seductive, leaving us feeling powerful and in control.
And we can be in control. For a while. Of some things. But then life shows us just how fragile we are, and there we are, tumbling and crashing and tenderly feeling every part of our body and spirit. Am I okay? Where does it hurt? Breathe. Breathe.
For millions of years, humans have been living at the pace of our (or our horse’s) feet. If that’s the case, what is the existential toll of modern-day urgency on our bodies? Is it any wonder we feel fragmented and wild (and not in a good way)?
Since a new year feels like a chance to reset, to start over, one intention we might consider holding is to leave urgency behind. And if we can’t do it for a whole year, what about for a day? Think about it.
Leave urgency behind.
Commit to a kind and radical slowing down.
Breathe.
Live where your feet are.
There is no time to lose . . . because there is only this now.
There is no need to hurry . . . because there is only this now.
Be present.
Answer the call to let this now be enough.
Live light.
And shine.
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If you aren’t sure how to leave urgency behind, consider trying yoga. It’s a chance to turn away from the din and demands of the external world and turn in to your grounded center. Check out willowyogaminnesota.com for practices like “Address the stress” and “Center and shine.” You’ll also find practices for all levels of students. Be well and happy New Year!