Two weeks ago I was on vacation in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, reveling in the sheer quantity of foliage, eating fudge and diner food, and staring mesmerized at the backside of a horse.
We clocked Rob, the big draft horse we rented along with a buggy for two hours on Mackinac Island, at 3 miles per hour on the semicircular route we took around the western shore of the island and back through the middle. Bicyclists, of which there are many, since Mackinack does not allow "horseless carriages," easily passed us. Anyone out for a brisk walk would have easily passed us. Clopping past a meadow we engaged in a back-and-forth conversation with some cyclists who had stopped for a rest while we slowly plodded on. The pace was, shall we say — leisurely.
"What a great idea for a blog post," I thought. We should all allow some time to cultivate our inner Amish and really slow down to experience life at this pace every so often.
Problem is, when I got back from vacation I didn't even have time to write the friggin' blog post about slowing down, much less actually follow my own advice. So now I am composing at 10:30 at night because I'll be damned if I let another Wednesday (my self-imposed blog deadline) go by without posting something.
Right about now is the place where, if I had planned this all out, I would be neatly wrapping up the post with some great insight about how we can tap into that 3 mile per hour ideal and really make it work. But I haven't planned it all out, because I didn't sit down to write until 10 o'clock. Of course it would have been earlier if I hadn't spent an hour and a half at a group meditation and book discussion that I try to make every week. It's a bit like jamming on the brakes from 300 miles per hour for just that hour and a half before putting the pedal to the metal again.
I guess it's all about fiercely guarding what is important in the right now. And compromises — always with the compromises.
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