Present Over Perfect

bowls of strawberries outside on the lawn. It was slow, and
it was simple, and it was sweeter than I can remember,
because it felt more like a glass of water than a firehose.
Pride, for years, has told me that I am strong enough to
drink from a firehose, and gluttony tells me it will all be so
delicious.
But those voices are liars. The glass of cool water is
more lovely and sustaining than the firehose will ever be,
and I’m starting to trust the voices of peace and simplicity
more than pride and gluttony. They’re leading me well these
days.
The more I listen to myself, my body, my feelings, and
the less I listen to the “should” and “must” and “to-do”
voices, the more I realize my body and spirit have been
whispering all along, but I couldn’t hear them over the
chaos and noise of the life I’d created. I was addicted to this
chaos, but like any addiction, it was damaging to me.
Here’s what I know: I thought the doing and the
busyness would keep me safe. They keep me numb. Which
is not the same as safe, which isn’t even the greatest thing to
aspire to.
If you’re not like me—prone to frantic levels of activity,
swirling chaos, fast-moving cycles of over-commitment and
resentment—then you might press your face up to the glass
of my life with something like wonder and a little confusion.
“Why don’t you,” you might suggest gently, “just slow
down?” I understand the question, but I find it’s a little bit
like asking people who are ruining their life and health with