When Is a Mystery
Urgency runs our lives. We have an almost overwhelming sense of “hurry up and get it done.” When we live with urgency, we are rarely living where our feet are. Our eyes are always on the goal. We can become impatient, frustrated, waiting until this or that happens.
And if “the thing” does happen, 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. No wonder life and work can 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?
Goals can be wonderful, and there are times when things must be done—and 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)?
What if we decide to leave urgency behind? If we can’t do it forever, what about for a day? An hour? The next five minutes?
Take a breath in.
Let it go.
Commit to a kind and radical slowing down.
Realize how close restless and resettles are to one another. It just takes some switching around of things. Some small letting go.
Realize when is often a mystery. We can’t always solve it, so let it be. And choose to live now.
In wonderment, in contentment, 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.
Let it be a delicious, slow, unfolding mystery.