No Shame in the Slow Game
On staying awhile longer and letting your systems shatter
In juggling the yearning of ease and the comfort of the mundane in a yet redundant regimen, and teetering on the edge of picking it all up and leaving for the unknown in solidarity, I am brought to write about my extremist ways.
To venture alongside your own shadow.
I began to settle into the ease of life recently.
I’ve left the cold showers behind, the rigid schedule of journaling and exercise.
Allotting myself more time, taking things slow.
Cooking with curiosity and reading the fables of intricate lives that are not of my own.
I lingered under my sheets for awhile longer as the sun peered through my window and skylight. I knew people lived a thousand lives before mine started today. That’s okay. As I picked up my new fiction book, I remind myself that rules are made by no one but ourselves and I can escape into my own comfort for awhile longer. Hell, I can read into the abyss like this until Monday comes.
Having this thought is comforting, knowing I’ve started unstitching and tearing the woven blanket of shame and guilt I wear.
I stopped caring about sleeping in, it’s a blessing we are able to do so and to rest is to care.
I slowly slid out of my bed and unto the floor where I sat and threw my hair out the window as the sun greeted me with a heaping dose of vitamin D and welcomed me into the day.
I showered and wrapped myself in a warm hug from my robe after I lathered my skin.
Not needing to be anywhere anytime soon, I substituted my green smoothie with actual breakfast, nevertheless it approaching the afternoon.
I almost forgot breakfast food was my favorite food and I haven’t explored in awhile, as I’m too busy regimenting my days.
I made warm rolled oats with cinnamon and banana as tv played in the background accompanying the rain.
I didn’t have a timed schedule this Saturday, but I knew I was going to Book Club Bar. Without watching the time I let the rest of my afternoon unfold and I put on clothing I felt the most myself in.
Slowly but surely I found myself sitting in east village with a matcha in front of me as I finish The Second Mountain by David Brooks (yes, the same book I talked about when I was in Colombia two months prior).
And on the contrary, I don’t mind that it’s taken me awhile to finish this one. I intentionally made it an event this particular day, slowly rereading each sentence, squeezing every ounce of juice I can from David’s words.
Side Note: I made a promise to myself that I would only pick up philosophy with intention and genuine curiosity because reading non-fiction easily became another task on my to do list, reducing joy.
I carried on with the rest of my day, meeting friends and drinking wine on the streets of lower east side as it torrential down poured and reminded myself my life is not in fact, a movie although New York tends to feel like you’re living in a coming of age cinema every. single. day.
I sit back and remember to have more days doing the exact things I love doing and to truly relish in the enjoyment of it all.
Dangling extracurriculars or rest as treats after doing a task or 10 only puts you in the confinements of your own.
Life is so much more than a to do list.
The more attracted I am to these thoughts, the more I itch to detach and remove myself from expectations and identity, shattering my systems.
There’s something so yummy in the possibility of doing so in a different country, although that’s a conversation for another day.
Because I know there will come a time where I leap head first into the stability of faith, community, belonging and living for others -
but for now, there is so much room to play and I want to keep reading this chapter
because I think we just might be choosing the wrong things to matter.
Let’s sit in the sun awhile longer,
read a little slower,
and let the conversations linger.
xx, g