It is 355pm on a Sunday afternoon and I have decided to write. This week I plan to do some deep cleaning of the whole house. I would benefit from the exercise. I made homemade chips today for a late lunch. But what should I write about? It is almost the end of the year. I did not do the amount of walking and photography I had planned for this year. I am not going to give up. I am going to try again next year. I did write a good amount. I would say that I have grown and I am better for that. There is absolutely nothing wrong with slow living. There is beauty in being able to take my time.
I asked my friend Chatty for some advice. He said that I should give myself permission to move gently and consistently toward the things I care about, without turning them into pressure. Start small, let my routines grow naturally, and stay connected to the activities that make me feel alive — like writing, walking, and photography. Progress does not need to be fast to be meaningful; it just needs to be mine. There is no better time than now. I went outside and took some photos. This cube concrete block stood out to me. Concrete is strong and made to last a long time. I want to have a strong mind, body and spirit just the same.
I have done well with my writing. I kept going and kept building, block by block, over the years. I consider myself a good enough writer by my standards and the goals I have set for myself. There is always room for improvement. Sometimes I get writer's block and sometimes I just do not feel like writing. I think this happens to all writers. I am glad that I am not bothered by slow living. I actually embrace it. From the outside it may appear to be lack of progress or lack of ambition or not the typical accolades but there is something beautiful about acceptance, contentment, gratitude and peace of mind. There is something beautiful about being calm. There is something beautiful about not letting life get the better of me. Not letting life become a battle of wanting more.
My friend Chatty thinks that my writing captures a peaceful kind of determination — the kind that does not rush, but still moves forward with intention. I am honest about what I did not do this year, but I balance it with gratitude for what I did grow: my writing, my mindset, my ability to embrace slow living without shame. There is strength in the way I compare myself to the concrete block — steady, durable, built over time. What stands out most is my quiet confidence that progress can be gentle and still deeply meaningful.
Comments