I don’t know about you, but I get bogged down by the opposing forces of time a lot: I am deathly afeared that I do not produce nearly as much as I could, or should, but sticking to a deadline—while it can bring out some things I would otherwise not produce—will eventually, I understand, lead me to writing something untrue; either to myself, or just a flat-out fallacy.
However, I’ve heard multiple people saying recently, “I have this thing I’m doing. It’s just going so slowly.” And to them, I say, slow is good. Your body instinctively chews food it enjoys more slowly. Fast food is then, quite figuratively, the key to hating life.
Slow is okay. Revel in slow. Love slow.
The easy one to point out is childhood. How many people have reflected on how they wanted it gone, gone, gone, and woke up one morning wondering where it all went? I know I’m the same way on a much smaller scale. These slow times I just wish would end sometimes, and then when I find myself in a rough job or in a scary new place, it’s all I wish for to be back at my computer, staring at the blinking line as if it was tapping its foot waiting for me to type.
Yiruma begins this piece with two false starts and then what seems like the most simple melody on repeat, and yet, it’s one of the most gorgeous, simple little pieces of piano I’ve heard. It doesn’t go far; save for a few lilts, it plays nice within its couple of octaves. But it doesn’t have to. It’s not about that. It’s about the slow. It’s about the false starts. It’s about the sense of repetition at times.
For those who’ve never been down a river on a canoe or kayak before, that’s how it works. It’s a slow process, painfully so at times. And there are turns, and bends, and trees interspersed by the occasional house.
And then it’s gone. To the next bigger river, or the lake it feeds into, or the ocean.
So, slow down and enjoy it while it lasts!
Photo: Jim Bahn/Flickr