I once wrote a song about how my life never seemed to slow down, and how much I adored it. I spent almost all of my time in a van on the highway, going god knows where. It never mattered. It was as if I had to pack in as much as I could every day, and if I slowed down, even for a second, I would miss something I could never see again. I slept, moving.
Now the fear of slowing down is two-fold. Not only do I not want my boys to miss anything, I also have a fear that if I slow down it will send us all into a spiral of routine and obligation. I know it is mostly irrational, and if I am going to maintain not only my sanity, but my health, I should probably breathe once in a while. I know that most of the world's amazing things will still probably be there tomorrow. Or god forbid, we have to wait until the weekend to see them.
For now, I should probably find a quiet spot to sit, and rest my eyes.
Outside, sitting still,teaching myself things I should already know. This is where I've been.