I have a new mantra since moving to Costa Rica. If it's worth doing, it's worth doing slowly.
In the rush of daily life, the life I'd constructed in the U.S., I got a lot done because deep in the back of my primitive mind I kept hearing a constant frantic message. The staccato drumming of an insane percussionist and the SOS he tapped out pounded in the background of my day-to-day life.
You're running out of time, it said, over and over and over. Hurry, you're almost out of time.
Enter, the sloth. Think what you may of these moss and mold-covered oddities (Who used to be giants! I can't ever get that image out of my head.) like all creatures, they have a purpose and lesson to share if we'd like to hear it.
I'm not a sloth expert. I'm mildly fascinated by them. When we made the choice to move to Costa Rica I adopted them as the symbol of my new life and each time I saw one I would tell myself to slow down. I bought a little silver ring to wear as a reminder. A frequent message to that insane percussionist in my head, "Back off dude, in fact, hand over your sticks 'cause you're going to retire."
When I would start to feel tense and rushed to get something done I would pause and say, "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing slowly." Then take a long slow breath and let it out, you guessed it, slowly.
There's also another saying, "Slow is smooth and smooth is fast." The percussionist yelled that at me as the left. I think he's suggesting that even though I'm doing it slowly, I'm really trying to find a way to do it fast. Sneaky jerk.
I got to see a sloth in the wild, sort of the wild, it wasn't in a park or preserve, it was hanging out in the trees in a village near a volcano. The guide on the bus we were on slowed down as we were about to cross a small, canopy-covered river and pointed to the trees over the water.
"There," he said and pointed up, "There's a sloth."
He pulled the van over and all ten of us poured out, phones in hand, cameras at the ready. This was everyone's first time seeing a sloth out in regular ol' nature and some of my friends on this bus had lived in Costa Rica for over 15 years. It was the ordinary kind of magical moment you hope for when you move to the tropics and we were in awe.
It's super hard to slow down when you live in a big city in the US. I found it hard to slow down in a small town in Texas. I constantly wanted to prove my worth, show my value. I know people who can carve out that bubble of peace in the middle of the chaos. I have mad respect for that skill 'cause I don't have it. My plan was to find it and cultivate it in a new place. A change of scenery to help with a change of mind.
I do believe it's working. Three and a half months into this journey and I breathe more evenly, more deeply. I can sit for long periods of time and stare at the vibrant green palm trees and think non-productive thoughts like, "that's lovely" and "there are so many shades of green" and not feel like I just wasted my time.
Change is a process, a slow process. I didn't become this way overnight, I won't become a new thing overnight.
But...If something is worth doing, it's worth doing slowly.
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