But in the wee, small hours of the morning, when I just can't seem to find some sleep, the thought that keeps running through my head is a vision of what life will be like on the other side of the craziness. A life where I can get up and enjoy a cup of coffee instead of putting too much milk in it so I can guzzle it down. A time where I don't have to fast forward to the end because I have to go, or where I can solely concentrate on music, not just have it in the background while I do something else.
When did the power of a minute take over my life?
I hadn't really thought about it until my friend Winslow Eliot wrote a post on slowing down. As I read it, I realized that I didn't even know what that meant. If you'd like to read the article, click here, but it basically gives examples of what slowing actually looks like.
It isn't about how much you do in one day, it's about relishing the experience. Tasting each morsel, appreciating the cool breeze, feeling the soft grass between your toes.
It's a novel concept, and so tonight, while I fixed dinner, I listened to the sizzle of the pan, I actually made a plate and sat at the table. I thought about the texture, the taste of the food, and other than a strong desire to start humming the chorus to "the Age of Aquarius", I enjoyed it immensely.
I think Winslow might just be on to something here.