When a friend asked me why I hadn’t written anything for so long, I simply replied that this is slow living. I write when I feel like it or when I’m reminded to do so, and otherwise, I’m content living my unhurried life.
Over the past few months, I’ve discovered several nooks and crannies where I can sit, lean against a tree, and read a good book. Reading outside in the fresh air, with the natural world surrounding me, is an entirely different experience than sitting inside. The environment competes with the book for my attention. If the surroundings are more captivating, I can easily lose myself in them and forget about the book. However, if the book is engrossing, nothing else matters. Occasionally, a bird will fly overhead, or a gentle breeze will brush past me, and I’ll look up momentarily before diving back into my book.
I used to worry about insects crawling around me or a hare sneaking up from behind as I sat there. However, I’ve come to appreciate their mindful way of life. Insects go about their business without paying me any attention, and hares are curious but cautious. They’ll peek out, check me out, and then go about their business, usually raiding my vegetable patch for cabbages. I figure they can enjoy the cabbage, and I can enjoy the tranquility with my book.
In summary, my friend, these are just a few of the reasons why I love this slow-paced lifestyle.