The Beauty of Slow

My dear readers, it is time to return to this blog’s theme:  a snail’s space.  Remember why I started this blog?  It was because I wanted to write about what it is like to be a "snail" compared to the rest of the world and to offer strategies and encouragement for others who, like me, are trying to cope with being "slow".

In this fast-paced western society, slow is not very highly valued.  In fact, slow-paced people are usually criticized.  They don't measure up.  They don't produce quickly enough.  They're never on time, etc, etc.  In the past decade, I observed some new favorable attention given to "slow", but it mostly had to do with food.  But now, I have discovered the magazine, Bella Grace.  It is the first magazine I've encountered that glorifies "slow".  I think this is why Bella Grace speaks to me so much.

While reading recent issues of Bella Grace, I came across several beautiful articles written by a lovely woman, Elle Harris.  

I contacted Elle via her blog: thisquotablelife.wordpress.com and we embarked on a new friendship.  Elle suggested that we “guest blog” for each other.  What an honor and a blessing!  I asked Elle if she would be willing to write a piece titled “The Beauty of Slow” to fit with my blog’s theme.  Dear readers, you are in for a treat!

It is my distinct honor to share with you:

The Beauty of Slow

By

Elle Harris

There is a beauty to being slow ... and it is a beauty that took me some time to appreciate. Slow, to me, is an acquired taste, and in younger years it was only bitter – not sweet.  I remember so many instances where time was my enemy – every minute a wrestling match for what I could get done next or cross off my never-ending list. At that time, I wasn’t so much a human being as a human doing, and while I believe we were given hands and feet to do ... more and more I am coming to understand that we were also given minds to reflect, lungs to breathe, and a heartbeat ... slow and steady ... with which we were meant to keep time.

What a difference my life would have felt, and still would feel, if I only paid more attention to that heart – to that beat. When I do take the time to listen to the parts of myself that speak quietly, I hear a great deal of questions ... questions I don’t know the answer to, but I want to. Like when someone asks me to tell them what I did in a weekend, I have to start backwards or I literally can’t remember. Why is that? Or when I was a little girl, I used to sleep like a starfish – open and free – limbs tossed this way and that haphazardly. Now, I sleep curled up on my side.  What happened to that little girl? What am I protecting myself from? Sometimes I have a sense of urgency to accomplish more, and I run myself ragged from the first rays to the last, only to exhaust myself for those who want the best of me. Why do I waste those best parts on a thankless day, instead of a precious night?

As you can see – I’ve not genuinely figured it out yet, but I’m thinking, and I’m trying, because when I do get it right ... the beauty of slow seeps in and enchants me. Slow looks like watching the sleepy dreamer beside me, whose chest rises and falls in peaceful rhythm to his unconscious reverie.  Slow feels like stretching every limb to its limit as I walk, and hike, and run to explore the hidden magic of nature. Slow sounds like hearing the words behind the song – becoming a part of the melody itself as it reaches the deepest parts of me. Slow tastes like the sea-salt air, the lilac wind, the damp dew of grass, the whispered sweetness of lilies.

It is the afterglow – the lullaby hum – the perfect contentment of still. And I may not have figured it out yet, but there’s one thing I know ... there is never such beauty, as the beauty of slow.

For more of Elle's beautiful writing and photography, check out her blog at: thisquotablelife.wordpress.com