Slowness

A Word for the New Year

Dear Reader,

The winter solstice has come and gone, the earth beginning its turn toward light, but I am still moving slowly. Each morning I linger in bed right up until the moment of lateness.

I know it’s almost time to begin again. In two days I am heading to the Black Mountains for the first residency of a two-year MFA program. I have a book that is allllllmost done, sitting on my computer. I have a show in mid-January and I need to practice my guitar.

Every New Years some friends and I choose words to anchor us in the year to come. This year my word is slowness. My mantra: I take my time.

I’ve been trying slowness for a few weeks now, ever since I paused my Ritalin. Slowness means doing one task at a time and striving for deep focus. I take the carton of eggs out of the fridge, close the door, crack two eggs into the pan where butter sizzles, put the egg shells into the compost, close the carton of eggs, return it to the fridge. I try not to do anything else, think of anything else in this process. Just the eggs. Just the sizzle

Slowness is in some ways the same as depth. How deep and wide can a moment stretch? How solitary? How empty? How full?

The opposite of slowness is Running Ragged. This becomes the habit for me. Flying around the kitchen: eggs, toast, dishes, eggs, butter, lunch, eggs, lunchbox all fragmented and rushed and mixed together. This feels like Not Enough Time.

There is almost always enough time to go slow. This is a lesson that I have recently begun to learn. When I do Slowness, or One Thing At A Time, I feel like I’m moving slowly but breakfast takes the same amount of time. Slowness is a way of stretching time so that everything can fit. So that you can fit.

Slowness is wholeness. I feel whole when I am slow. I don’t forget pieces of myself everywhere.

I do like to go fast sometimes. This is different from rushing, which is not like I’m going fast but like fast is going me.

The earth has its own tempo. Sun cycles: winter spring summer fall. Moon cycles: waxing waning full and new. America has a tempo: fast fast fast. People creating more and more speed and heat all the time. My phone has a tempo: Again again again.

I wonder what it will feel like to be slow in different contexts. School. Work. Mothering. So far slow feels a lot like pleasure.

Tonight is New Years Eve and I don’t have any plans. Only to drift slowly toward the next thing and the next, savoring what I can.

All my love,

Kate