March 2021--When you think of the word “slow,” does it conjure up a negative image?
I think to most it does.
After all, use any dictionary or thesaurus and you’ll find most associated words are negative. Like when it comes to speed, being slow means you’re proceeding at a rate less than usual or desired.
As an adjective, it’s described as sluggish, dawdling, lackadaisical, lazy, tardy and dull. When used as a verb, it’s a synonym for getting bogged down or stuck, lessening in size, losing velocity, reducing productivity, and becoming weaker.
How “slow” is viewed—and interpreted—all depends on where you live. I grew up in the Midwest—just outside the third largest city in the U.S. You did things fast, or you’d lose out. Big sale on an appliance you needed? Had to get to the store quickly or there would be none left. You moved fast (like for a run not a walk), you worked fast, you drove fast (except through those speed traps), you ran errands (no browsing—get in, get it and get out), you talked fast, and you ate fast (drive-throughs preferably).
I’ve been blessed to enjoy an extended stay down south—not what’s referred to as the deep south—but south enough to have people say, “You’re not from around these parts, are you? I can tell by your accent.” And it’s this extended stay that has me viewing and interpreting “slow” in a different way.
“Slow” in this part of the country is unhurried, relaxed and leisurely, without hurry or haste. It’s speaking in a calm and tranquil voice, and proceeding in small, gradual stages. It’s easy going, mellow, relaxed and chilled.
It’s a leisurely drive through the mountains and not caring that another car just passed you on the two-lane road. Then, actually stopping at the look-out spots to take it all in—the incredible beauty of miles and miles of peaks untouched by human hands—breathing fresh air while your head really is in the clouds.
It’s the line in the grocery store checkout lane that’s at a standstill because the customer in front of you is asking the cashier how his mama is doing after her surgery. Back home, you’d be rolling your eyes and tapping your toes as you anxiously await the end of their conversation. But now, you’re finding it refreshing. And when you’re ready to check out, you want to tell the young man you’re happy to hear his mother is going to be fine.
It’s the manner in which the neighbors who stop by with a homemade pecan pie actually sit for a spell to relax and have a slice with you. It’s the unhurried wait staff in the local diner who take a little longer to get your order because they’re giving you their honest opinions on the best menu items, and then pointing out some places of interest in town you won’t want to miss.
Going to see as much as I can while I’m down here—but at a snail’s pace—and always...
Take it one day at a time…
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