"Perhaps you have too many commitments," I offered. "Maybe you're doing too much."
She looked at me for a few seconds, then said, "I wonder where I got that."
Rats. There was so much I wanted to impart to this beautiful young woman, but I did not mean to be a role model of a woman in a hurry.
Nevertheless, I am always in a rush. Always. The car ahead of me is always too pokey, usually because the crazy driver is going the speed limit. Or more. I am always in the slow lane at checkout, no matter what lane I am in. I do my yoga in the morning and have to remind myself over and over to be in the moment, that this is about slowing down, not about being done with it so I can go on to whatever is next. It has been a hard lesson for me, this slowing down. I am trying to learn it. Trying, trying, trying.
I look forward to going to our Colorado cabin in the summer because there I can stop, unplug, unwind, and take my time. I cannot hurry on a mountain hike—my lungs aren't that good. So I have to slow down, breathe the mountain air, and relax.
This is one of the lessons of cancer—that hurrying gets you nowhere. That cancer does not care how efficient and productive you are. It can still catch you. And, ironically, the best way to outrun it is by slowing down.
So, slow down, you move too fast. And here's a little Simon and Garfunkel to help you. Feeling groovy....