Pacing.
written by Julie R. Neidlinger 4 comments link this postWe all run our own pace in this life. Our pace, our busy-ness. My pace is slow, and getting slower. I can't take the constant busy-ness. I can't keep up with the rest. And I don't want to keep up. In some ways, I have purposefully slowed down.
My option is to become as busy as those around me so that I can experience them at the same level, like two runners, talking to each other, their pace identical. Or, I can refuse and let them run on ahead.
I do know that busy people are doing good things. Busy with jobs, busy with family, busy with responsibilities that must be met. I don't blame them for it, and I admire their willingness to take on the hard things, sometimes.
But I'm not busy. I don't run their pace. I know I can't keep up, that I can't run that pace for long, and that I'll never make it to the end at that speed. I have to be slow.
I tell my friends I understand that they are busy, that what I have to say or want to do can wait, and I truly do not hold it against them. I understand in a way that doesn't really comprehend that fast pace, but in a way that knows very well what it means when people are passing by. Busy means busy, like a phone signal. I know what it means. The phone is already in use and I'll have to wait my turn. I understand.
It's how it is.
Yet, understanding this does not mean I am standing, that I am not moving and will still be here when they find time to get back to me. I'm not moving quickly, but I am moving, and I might veer off on that yellowed-wood path somewhere that they whizzed by. They have to understand something, too, and that is that just as I can not expect them to slow down, they can't ask me to always wait. We slower ones can't always be expected to wait.
The currency that busy people think they have the least to offer is that of time, which means that spending it on someone carries the most meaning. It is true sacrifice. The currency those of us who seem less busy have to offer, the thing that carries the most weight, isn't time. It's waiting.
My busy friends are important to me. I don't expect them to not be busy; it's become part of who they are and how I understand my relationship with them will be. I don't turn to them in times when I need something immediate, since I never know if they are going to be available or if I'll have to wait for some future time when they get back to me. My busy friends are not my go-to friends. This is not a punishment for them, but a sensible thing for me.
I just hope they understand that it isn't always up to those of us less-busy ones to wait. We may take a different path or enjoy the slower pace of those we find ourselves traveling with, just as they may find that someone running their own pace, who truly understands the nature of being busy, is best.
This world is very fast, and I've grown tired of waiting for so many different friends over the years. I wait, and grow disenchanted. I wait, and grow tired. I wait, only to find out they're not coming back, after all. I've stood still long enough and, like a shark, I need to move -- even if not very fast -- if I want to live.
Labels: essay, personal, relationships
Copyright (c) Julie R. Neidlinger 7/24/2007 11:24:00 PM
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4 Comments:
I would think people would find your slower pace desirable.
By 
, at
25/7/07 00:16
I like the slower pace. That's my temperament. I would think it is also a saner way to live.
I've lived through this thing with old friends, let's say college friends. When they see me, years later, and see that I'm not married, they assume I'm the same person I was when I was 21. They are judging in a superficial way by the things they can see. They don't see the inside. They don't see the adventure that takes place intellectually, emotionally, spiritually. I have no way of revealing physically that rocky journey.
Maybe a bandage around the head.
By , at
25/7/07 18:17
I don't know about desirable. It may seem that way at first, but few people consider that when you're going slower, everyone is passing you by. Passing you in careers, education, obvious accomplishments... and in the end, most people aren't willing to let that go.
Slow isn't the easiest thing in many ways. So when people tell me how lucky I am, and seem interested in all things "Julie" at first, I am curious to see how long before it sinks in, just what slower means.
Of course, it's not like I live in a log cabin without power and such. It's sort of a throwing off (or attempting to throw off -- I haven't perfected it yet, by any means) of things that promote consuming, advancing, pushing, achieving... and so on.
By 
Julie, at
25/7/07 21:09
It's ridiculously hard to be a slow person in a fast world that's getting faster. I want to be slow, but nothing and no one affords me that pleasure. So every day becomes a blur of activity. And I feel this disquiet growing in my soul.
When it takes months of finagling to get three couples together for a night out, something's wrong.
I never thought I'd envy the Amish, but their way of life grows better-looking every day.
By DLE, at
25/7/07 23:32
