Slow enough to savor
A practice for those who are longing to taste the goodness of life
I’ll never forget when I first learned this sneaky little truth about the human brain:
When we experience a negative thought, our brains attach to them like velcro. We ruminate on them. We can’t look away. The negative ideas or experiences fester and stir. It’s called negativity bias. Yep, our brains are wired for the negative. It probably goes back to some sort of prehistoric conditioning. If you want to avoid being killed off in the wilderness by a hungry bear or coyote, it makes sense that you’d constantly be looking out for that which might destroy you.
But what does this negativity bias mean in our everyday lives as modern folks? For most of us, we aren’t at risk of being devoured by wild animals, but you don’t have to look far to see all the ways we are consumed by negativity.
Now don’t worry—this isn’t about to become some sort of “pro-positivity,” “good vibes only” post. That’s not really my style, nor do I believe it to be real life. There are plenty of negative things happening in our world which require honest, sober-minded attention. Good vibes don’t kill racism. Good vibes don’t heal depression. Good vibes do very little to restore connection, or to feed the hungry, or to create safe homes for kiddos experiencing abuse…to name a few of the social ills we are navigating as a society.
But, I do want to spend a little time thinking together about a practice I recently learned of in my spiritual direction training. The practice is called savoring.
Yes, to savor, i.e. to taste and enjoy completely.1
There are moments in life when we experience true joy, connection, and meaning. It can be in anything. Maybe we feel it when a loved one walks into the room or when a beloved pet runs up to give sloppy kisses. Maybe we feel it when the warmth of the sun hits our face in early morning or when standing by a toasty bonfire on a cold night. I often feel the joy of being alive when leading a workshop and watching people have light bulb moments related to their racial identities. I imagine my husband feels it when he plants a fresh round of seedlings for another growing season.
Truly, the moments can be pretty much anything and everything: as small as a quick exchange of smiles with a stranger or as grand as welcoming new life into the world. It’s simply a time when you feel at home and in Love. And I mean Love in the God-sense—when Creator’s presence and goodness are felt and known.
Can you recall this kind of moment for yourself in the past day, or week, or month?
It doesn’t have to be super spiritual or extraordinary. I find the most remarkable moments are ones that seem inconsequential to others, but I know them to be the times in my life when Love dwells fully and freely.
The practice of savoring is to simply recall these moments and intentionally delight in them. Recall and delight.
You might ask yourself:
How did I feel in that moment?
Where in my body did I feel it?
How do I feel remembering the moment right now?
And all you do is sit in the goodness of it. Maybe you close your eyes and let the memory carry you away. Maybe you hold the moment in your heart and mind for thirty seconds before transitioning into the next part of your day. Maybe you let your body fully remember the joy, the connection, the vitality. Maybe it brings you to tears are you realize that you almost missed it because you were moving too fast to really take it all in.
To savor is to taste one’s life and enjoy it completely.
In any given day or week there will likely be countless things to worry about. In any given day, there will be losses to grieve and prayers to offer. In any given day, there will be sicknesses in need of healing and relationships in need of mending. There is no escape from the harsh realities of what it means to be human.
But there are also invitations to savor goodness wherever we find it—or better yet, wherever The Good find us.
I’ve been working on how to define “slow living” and my favorite description so far hinges on this idea of making room. Slow living is about making room for connection to God, to ourselves, and to one another.
Savoring is slow living practice which makes room for us come home to ourselves on busy days and during sleepless nights. Savoring reminds us of the gifts of being alive.
Couldn’t we all use a little bit more of that?
What are you savoring these days? Tell me about a moment where goodness found you and how does it feel to recall it now? I can’t wait to read your responses.
With love,
Bethaney