Finding slow time

Accepting reality, being present and watching the setting sun

Photo by Dennis Ottink on Unsplash

I picked up one book and put it down.

I picked up another book, and put it down. I grabbed my journal, walked around my house, and then decided that I didn’t feel like writing. I stood on my porch and watched the breeze in the pecan tree. My dogs, Bear and Isla, ran up to greet me. I kneeled down to snuggle them. My heart swelled with connection and warmth.

I walked back inside, grabbed my iPad to watch some Netflix. Then the voices came, “That’s a waste of time. Be productive.” I felt frustrated. I was annoyed by my indecisiveness. I finally decided to just make dinner.

This entire series of actions unfolded in about ten minutes. Yesterday, I couldn’t focus to save my life.

Some days, I really struggle to find slow time.

I’ve missed blogging weekly.

There’s something life-giving about sharing words and being connected, so I decided to break up my every-two-weeks cadence today. Connection is something I’ve desperately needed as we move through the chaos, war and general anxieties of this moment in history. While blogging or sharing on Instagram might seem futile in the midst of tragedy, I’m learning the importance of witnessing one another in life’s unfolding, be it tragic or beautiful. Connection, even with those who annoy us or with whom we disagree, is what facilitates our sense of shared humanity. I’m learning to not take these experiences of connection for granted.

Not only are global conflicts and national politics requiring attention and care, but everyday life is happening too, right? We have doctor’s appointments and bills to pay. We have kids to love and schedules to keep. We have businesses to run and mouths to feed. Life is full. Finding slow time in the midst of this fullness is the work that’s cut out for us.

Slow time is the mysterious joining of heaven and earth. It is time beyond time. It’s not about the clock’s quantitative measure of progress. It’s about about a deeper cadence of creation, kairos, the soul’s knowing of eternity. It’s unhurried. It’s non-anxious. We can enter into slow time for a split second or for hours on end. It’s mystical and wonderful. And it’s fleeting at times, especially when the demands of life, work and the world are incredibly loud.

So what do we do? What do we do when our soul’s need for slow time bumps up against the fullness of what it means to be an adult human living on the earth? What do we do when our souls are cluttered, our minds are full, and our hearts are breaking? What do we do when our thoughts are racing so fast and our bodies are so restless that we are too distracted to decide how to fill ten spare minutes of time?

Here are three choices that met me with slow grace yesterday:

One—accepting the reality of the moment. Instead of trying to fix or change my state, and instead of continuing to beat myself up for “wasting time,” I accepted my condition. My condition included being sad about the conflict in Palestine and Israel. It included being annoyed by my own sense of powerlessness, and then being critical about my self-centeredness. I was tired because I didn’t sleep well the night before. I was anxious about lab results from my doctor. And I was frustrated because my desk was full of clutter and I couldn’t prioritize my work. This was my condition.

Human beings have hard days. Human beings have limits. Human beings drop the ball and make mistakes and say the wrong things. It happens because we’re human. Accepting our condition, even our chaotic ones, tends to still our inner waters, which then makes room for clear thinking and decisive action.

A mantra for accepting reality: It is what it is.

Two—being present to the normal stuff. I made dinner, welcomed my husband home from work, asked about his day, shared about mine. We talked a little bit about the world, a little more about our community, and a little bit more about some decisions we have to make in the next few weeks. It was totally normal. Boring even. But it wasn’t on a screen, which is profound. Too much screen time, even noble screen time spent advocating for justice in the world, tends to warp our sense of reality. We spend so much time online that we forget the basic skills of presence and attentiveness, of curiosity and good questions. Of sharing vulnerably and of being seen. Being present to the normal stuff of life keeps us rooted as the storms of chaos come and go.

Reflect: In what ways can I be more present to the normal stuff in my life today?

Three—watching the sunset. One of my favorite things about my husband Alex is that when he sees something beautiful, he has to share it. So when he went outside to collect the eggs and saw the beginning of the sunset over the hayfields behind our house, he poked his head back in to say, “Hey, the sunset is beautiful out here.”

I stopped what I was doing, put on my shoes and walked outside to see the sun’s warm, golden light as it filled the sky. I only watched it for about five minutes because a timer went off reminding me to pull the acorn squash from the oven. But those five minutes, watching the sun, reminded me of what slow time is all about.

War will come and go, leaving tremendous destruction and loss in its wake.
Sickness will come and go, marking our lives in innumerable ways in the short-term and for the long haul.
Friendships will come and go, shaping our lives, breaking and healing our hearts.
Life changes. Change is constant. We cannot control this.

And yet, the sun does rise and the sun does set.
And the moon waxes and wanes.
And the birds migrate south and the Sweetgum leaves blanket the ground.
And the mornings go from warm to cool to cold to cool to warm again.
This is slow time.
Always pulsing, always inviting us into her story.
Watching the sunset for few moments invites us into time beyond time.

A practice: Watch the sunset for a few moments. Notice what stirs in you.

These three choices nourished the roots of my inner life and prepared me to show up to my work and the world with a bit more capacity today. I offer them here for you, in hopes that you too are able to find moments of slow time as you move through the days ahead.

Please comment to let me know: how are you finding slow time in this season? How are you doing in the midst of all that happening in the world? Please let me, and us, bear witness to you in the comments below. This is how we remember that in all things, we are not alone.

Much love,

Bethaney