slow down - by Isabel - Mind Mine

Something I’ve noticed: whenever I take some sort of short-cut—and I mean really micro-short-cuts, like: contorting my body to reach too far for something when I could walk around to get in a much easier physical way, or rushing myself to get to something I am late for, or simply taking the “easy way out” on some mental task—something tends to go wrong because I refused to slow down. Either I create more of a mess, I slightly injure myself extending my body in a way it isn’t meant to go, I forget something, or I just otherwise create avoidable-chaos. This has made me think about how (and why!) I seem to have a consistent level of resistance to just go slower, take my time, and ease into what I’m doing with care. As a child, I was as close to a perfect pupil as any teacher could have hoped for: I was insatiably curious, well-behaved, and rather assertive in the way I asked my questions and absorbed the material that was being taught. I was studious. I paid attention. I studied. I was al

Something I’ve noticed: whenever I take some sort of short-cut—and I mean really micro-short-cuts, like: contorting my body to reach too far for something when I could walk around to get in a much easier physical way, or rushing myself to get to something I am late for, or simply taking the “easy way out” on some mental task—something tends to go wrong because I refused to slow down. Either I create more of a mess, I slightly injure myself extending my body in a way it isn’t meant to go, I forget something, or I just otherwise create avoidable-chaos. This has made me think about how (and why!)