The Slow Movement is a cultural shift that’s happening globally, and it’s happening for me, too.
I don’t think I wanted to stand still long enough to be judged, or to sense and then silence my own self-judgement’s. The trouble is with moving all the time, or at least in one’s mind, it’s easy to forget how soft we are, and how worthy of forgiveness we are.
So instead of seeing things as they really are, we distort (usually for the worst), or we close our eyes and pretend we don’t know. What starts as a refusal to see ourselves clearly morphs into a chronic inability to accept what we find, no matter what it might be. Now, we’ve become a war zone, in constant conflict, and the imagining of finding sanctuary in a person or idea, or a life event that hasn’t happened yet, becomes even sweeter and more unattainable.
We war, we want, and when it’s all done, we wonder where we got lost.
It was defiant of me to try and cling to innocence that way. I’d grown too much, and it had become ill-fitting. But as I said, The Slow Movement is happening and I’m aboard.
When we find “home” in ourselves–being aware of who we are and accepting of that truth– the urgency to build a safe space in somebody else just doesn’t smolder the way it use to. And running? Well, there’s nowhere else you have to go when home is something you carry everywhere.
So, love–and yes, sensational things like lust and romance, too–is something that can only be matched, not supplemented for a self-love that wasn’t there before.
And that’s okay.
“I choose power over innocence, and that’s okay.”
– Kriss Mincey