Periodicity of Sloth

I like Sunday Drivers, on Sundays.

They remind me, as they plod along at 45 mph in the fast lane on the freeway, on which I’m trying to race to the Farmer’s Market, that I could choose to chill, to lay back, to let the world come to me at its own pace without me hurrying out to get it, as quickly and as resolutely as I possibly can. What would it matter if I didn’t get the best parking space, the springiest greens, the sweetest berries, and freshest fruits. That’s all dependent on too many factors beyond my control anyway. My going fast won’t fix anything regarding that produce which the farmers have already rushed to market in hopes of getting the best prices.

What will it change if I

s - l - o - w

w - a - y

d - o - w - n

?

Periodically, it’s good to switch things up, right? Whether it is my pace, route, or mode of transportation, it creates new synapses to switch it up.

In Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain, Betty Edwards tells us how it can help balance our brain hemispheres when we use our non-dominant hand to, for instance, brush our teeth, or write our name, though maybe not to sign checks.

The idea of a sabbath appeals to me; a counter pose to the bustle of busy-ness most weeks bring, and setting aside a time, not to do, but just to be. Don’t just do something. Sit there!

Sunday drivers may have their priorities straight: To spend a day in leisure pursuits, visiting folks, conversing, discussing important topics, relaxing with a good book, playing, and dancing to a different drummer’s slower rhythm, to help re-set the hot busy-busy with a chillaxin cooler and easier tempo. Maybe it makes the week ahead less hectic. Maybe it fills a well where we can drink deeply of a refreshing brew throughout the next six days.

It isn’t important to me which day folks put aside to lift the needle out of the groove in the record (Wow! am I dating myself… but, hey, at least I’m dating! As long as this is not my vinyl resting place!) As it is, I see Sunday drivers on the freeway every day of the week.

Many cultures build in a day of rest and spiritual development or renewal. Saturday, Sunday, Fun-day or Choose-day. No me importa. I’d like to try it. One day of rest. My family of origin didn’t do that, nor did my husband’s. Consequently, we’re not so good at resting, recreating, and recollecting ourselves.

Yom Kippur, the holiest day in the Jewish calendar, has just passed. It’s a day of atonement. When we break-down that word, it makes sense to me: it’s a time to be AT ONE. Maybe At-One-ment with all there is? For most of us that means putting aside grudges, so we may be close to all beings, and recognize our concurrent residence with all we know on a singular blue marble, third planet from our Sun/Star, on the fringes of a magnificent galaxy, in an unknowable and vast Universe.

Sunday drivers deserve not only my compassion, but my gratitude for reminding me to slow down!

The Blood Red Super Moon of 9-27-15 would have been missed by me, had I not been out with neighbors at a FUNdraiser, slowed down enough to go outside and LOOK at the sky. Ol’ ginger colored Cheshire cat smiling down on us warmed my heart.

May you find the tempo that lets you stop to smell the roses, see eclipses, and your fellow human travelers on this beautiful spaceship earth… even if only periodically.

To Sloth!