It may have started in nursery school with that game.
Do you remember the one when the music stopped playing you took a seat and if you
were slow you were out.
You had nowhere to sit.
It may have started with races and racing on the playground.
The fast were picked, the slow left out.
It may not matter where it began because it seeped deep into our every fiber.
And it is.
We race, hurry, scurry, fly by, rush, whirling dervish our way down through our days.
And we miss out on the small.
I hear a collective cry and sigh these days.
From women and moms and wives and mothers.
A cry of the heart.
To rest from the weary of the rush.
A cry of the soul to slow the pace.
And a cry of the eyes of the heart to see it all, record and mark.
Save and savor, this life, these days.
And I seek to find a way to slow.
And it looks a lot like poetry to me.
The fewer the simpler the spaces for breathing.
The shorter.
A place for the eyes and mind to meander down line, weaving along slowly
The words, the life, the road.
I long to be more the tortoise in the story now.
I was the hare, it sounds like harried to me now.
And missing the chair in child’s game seems sweet
Sitting cross-legged on the floor down low,
Slowly I embrace that too.
And of all the slow I now know
Makes us winners
almost every time
Slow to speak and quick to listen, love
guard the tongue
Slowly slowly this I know,
Release the tongue, the words, the thought
Slowly slowly this I know.
Row row row your boat gently, merrily, slowly,
See the child’s play in the day
With eyes wide open
slow, slower, slowest.
See you at the finish line
Last one there wins.
Today is Day 13 in the series. I am joining others at The Nester. To read the collective click here or go to the page link entitled 31 Days on my home page.
Writing in community with Sandra Heska King
And now its time for your words. I long to hear from you. Jump in and join the conversation. There is more JOY when you speak too. Leave a Comment at the top of the page is waiting for your words. Click, write, speak, join this community. You may wish to subscribe and follow all the posts here.
elizabeth w. marshall 
Oh, friend. Ahhhhhhhh. Thank you for the ways you’ve turned old thinking on its head. The harried hare — yes, I know this one, with frantic scurrying to the end, distracted by all the wrong things. I imagine you this morning as the child sitting cross-legged on the floor…yes, let that be me. Elizabeth, you’ve so beautifully turned old thinking on its head, invited a new and better way. So proud of you for the ways you’re walking through these 30 Days.
Ah, Ashley I am grabbing on to your words and holding on to them for awhile. i spent so much of my life hurrying and rushing and moving quickly. I have felt the Lord say, slow to me. Love that you think it sounds sweet too.
I too enjoy slow days, when I find myself back into the ratrace of life and traffic and chaos my mind cannot take it. After being home now for over three years the calm is a friend to me, it is something to come home to and enjoy. Not too different than a cup of seeping hot tea that one can lean over and breathe in the herbs and sweetness. Slowing down is a gift we can give ourselves.
Love that, Sharon. Yes, a gift to ourselves. Lovely.
I am delighted to have found you here. All that we have learned from early years to today, this daily rush, is all counter to what is wise and truly living and yes, winning. This slowing “looks a lot like poetry to me,” and it is beautiful. I’m going to share this on my facebook page!
Thank you Theresa for sharing on FB. I am loving poetry so deeply and sometimes I feel I am the only one. So having it speak to others is shared joy for me. I am “stuck” happily in a rather long season of the poetic. As primative, awkward, and unpoetic as it comes out sometimes, it how I feel lead to write. Love having you along.
Yes, yes, yes. If there was anything I’d do different if I could go back and raise my children again, it would be to stop the hurrying. Blessings to you this weekend, Elizabeth.
Patricia, the rushing seems to sap often, the joy and the ability to truly see. I want to look hard at the scriptures, but I don’t recall Jesus described as hurrying, rushing, as a lifestyle. We did a lot of rushing when mine were young. Maybe its difficult to avoid. I don’t know. But the cry of my heart is so rush less and slow up. Peace to you in the Sunday stillness.
Yes, the slow is poetry. Amen! It makes sense that the oldest among us are the slowest. They have garnered the wisdom of slow. Praying that we can all become old souls in this journey.
Spending some time this Saturday morning catching up with your 31 words. So nourishing! Looking forward to some slowness in my weekend. And looking forward to another 11 days of your 31 journey.
Wonderful to have you here friend. Wondering what God has in store for the last 11 days. Yes todays post was on catching some Z’s and laughter. Aren’t we all ready for both after the week. May you experience joy, rest and laughter this weekend. Love to you, your presence here is humbling.