This month's quote on my calendar: "There is more to Life than increasing its speed." -- Ghandi
I know this because I just turned the calendar today, 13 days into this month. What have I been doing that I haven't even turned a calendar page yet? Take your pick: watching the kids at county fair with all their projects; battling the weeds in my garden and back yard before they go to seed and make the problem worse next year; catching up on all the little jobs at work that got pushed aside by the demands of a summer reading program; trying to get six kids ready for school to start this month, plus celebrate two of their birthdays; and attempting to do all the daily things that make a house, family and job run smoothly.
I read the calendar quote feeling this paradox of both agreeing with the wisdom of Ghandi's thought, and wondering how the hell I am supposed to slow anything down. Lately it seems that the magazine articles, devotionals, and even novels I've been reading have been written on a dfferent planet, one on which August is simply a month to drift in the pool, sipping lemonade. Do people really live that way?
In my community, August is simply the break between the craziness of haying and the rush of fall work. August means fire watching, equipment repairing, hay stacking, and grain harvesting. August brings bumper crops of zuchinni to put up, and bumper costs of school supply lists to fill. Even the creatures are busy; early this morning, as I pulled weeds from the rudebekia, a honeybee buzzed from brown-eye to brown-eye, busily gathering pollen.
So, what to do? For despite my frustration at the impracticality of this quote, I am drawn to its truth. There is more to life than getting it all done; there must be, because "it all" is never completely finished. I know that if I wait until my to-do list is all checked of to relax, I will simply never relax. For most of my life, I've simply tried harder: made better lists, thought through the organization of my days, worked harder and more efficiently. And all that efficiency and hard work has given me . . . more jobs to do, more obligations to fulfill, more impossible demands -- mostly self-inflicted.
This week, in my perusing of the Internet for book review site, I stumbled upon a reference to "Slow Family Online." Its Facebook mission states that it is devoted to bringing back "lost arts" and it encourages us to "Trade frenzy for fun." The Facebook postings are mostly referrals to events and activities that force one to slow down; after all, a blueberry buckle takes a while to bake and cool, and then to eat. Whoever authors this site, thank you. Such simple ideas for really finding joy in simplicity and slowness.
And the site, the quote, the wisdom of this place, remind me that it all comes down to choice. For 40 years, my choice has been more -- more work, more house, more activity. Could slowing down be as simple as just choosing differently? My choice could be "less" or "slow" or even "good enough."
What if? What if, every day, I did take some time to just stop for a minute? What if, instead of jumping up from my morning coffee to reset the sprinker. I just let the sprinker run a little longer, until I finished my cup? What if, when Shawn asks if I'd like to look at my horses, I actually walked out into the corral and stroked them, instead of looking through the gate for all of three minutes? What if, instead of getting one more load of laundry folded or one more room cleaned, I baked cookies with Katie and Emily when they ask? What if, instead of reviewing more book catalogs, deciding more purchases, I just sat and read one of those novels for an afternoon?
Who knows? Perhaps one day, if I choose carefully, you might even find me floating in a pool, sipping on some lemonade and living the August I dream about . . . if only for a few hours.
