Everyone is in such a mad rush these days, even with COVID slowing things down. It feels like we go extra hard and fast when in the office or running errands because there is simply more to get done in shorter timeframes. Trips have to be consolidated and made in one fell swoop to better deal with rising gas prices, multi-tasking is no longer an optional challenge, it’s absolutely necessary to simply get through an average day, and the idea of slowing down often feels like an unobtainable luxury.
I was hoping the universe was using COVID to collectively teach us that we need to slow down, not just for the health of ourselves, but for the health of the planet as a whole. I watch it crumbling around us and realize with a tinge of sadness that many of us did not learn that lesson, or any lesson for that matter, and it’s incredibly disheartening. There is just so much any one of us can do to change that, however, and getting bogged down or upset over that doesn’t help matters in the least. And so I do what I can in my own little world, slowing things down in little ways during the day, learning when to say no, learning when to push myself a little harder, understanding what I can tolerate, and understanding what I absolutely will not tolerate. Most of all, I’m finding that the way to deal with many things that feel stressful or agitating is to simply slow down, examine what’s going on, and if needed step away from the problem or dilemma until it can be understood without anger or unreasonable passion. Enter this cup of tea and some soothing Tibetan flute music.
This video runs about three hours, and though nobody has that kind of time to stare at a stone Buddha and listen to some slow-ass flute music, everyone has time for a cup of tea at some point in their day. That’s what I try to do when things threaten to overwhelm. Pausing for the act of making a cup of tea is often just enough to keep one from tottering over the proverbial edge. So many big mistakes and irrevocable actions can be prevented by waiting a moment instead of rushing ahead.
And so I stand up and walk away from the desk. Selecting a mug that is comforting to the hand, I feel its sturdy composition and stalwart substance. It’s one of Andy’s mugs, from a set that goes back before we even met. I think of our history, all the years and all that we’ve been through – not specifically, merely the overarching reach of our time together – and already any negativity has been knocked off-balance.
Finding a sachet of tea – lemon and ginger – I drop it into the mug and fill it with water, allowing it to steep, and waiting for the air around us to still itself so I can watch the water vapor elegantly rise in ungraspable wisps of gray. I sit in the moment, in the stillness, while the tea cools. And at the end of the five minutes this exercise has taken, I feel a sense of calm and peace, and carry on with the day.
