So today, I'm slowing down. Here's a bit of purposeful poetry:
Snowflakes dance on the table;
they float down from heaven,
through the caved in roof and into the interior.
What about yesterday and everything that happened?
Do you even remember, or do you even care?
When the world collapsed Where were you?
It's difficult to continue, because although my body has stopped, my brain races onwards- like there is someplace that I have to go; someplace that I need to be. But that's silly, because I have nowhere to be and nothing to do.
Living in a western culture, I am told that to slow down is to fail; to stop is to cease forward motion, and that is detrimental to success. Everything in our world is fast: food, transportation, communication; we expect expediency in every facet of our existence, and that mentality transitions into to our leisure time. It becomes difficult to relax. It is difficult to relax. Or, perhaps that is just how I am. Either way, it isn't in my nature to slow down.
Right now, I was going to end this post at the end of the poem, when my brain told me to get up off of the couch and go do something productive, but instead I forced myself to stop, and engage in my own thoughts.
There is value in sluggishness.