It's a habit now.
And not a good one.
I rush through everything. Even if I don't need to.
When did life become a race?
I realize the faster I go, the more I miss.
I've had harbor seals play with my kayak.
People who zip by on their jetski's won't experience that.
I know this.
Yet still I rush.
Perhaps it is the detritus of parenthood. Too much to do all the time.
Perhaps it is striving for too much. Wanting it all, the disease of an affluent society.
Stopping.
If just for two or five minutes.
Without aids, such as TV, or the weekend beer.
Doing nothing. Maybe breathing.
Deliberate awareness of time.
Sounds like a good thing to fit in to my already full life.
Lao Tzu admonishes:
"Do enough, without vieing,
Be living, not dying.
