Pace and Transitions

The fall brings with it yearly transitions. These are more than the annual changes in season or the natural ebb and flow of the American educational system. It is a time of hope and renewal, a time of looking inward and pruning. It is a moment of deepening that bares fruit in the spring.

I, too, find myself in this space and place taking the moments of solitude, contemplation, quiet and transition as they come, and hoping, no trusting, that they will bring with them new revelations, insights and innovations, For me, this is the time to reconnect and listen. It is a moment of slowing down. And this moment was forced upon me by outside forces.

The organization for which I work - Youth Worker: Collective (formerly YDPN) - had a delay in one of our contracts. This meant, like many in this economy, temporary unemployment. And, for me, it has become a time to reassess, reevaluate, and relearn things I already know and believe. I am reconnecting to my core values. I am trying new things (mmm...baking). I am redefining my pace.

My ADHD is my greatest strength. It allows me to pick things up quickly, do many things at once, see connections between ideas and things that others don't or can't perceive, and jump in to situations others avoid. It is sometimes like the edit button is turned off, the volume turned way up, and the speed ratcheted up to that of lightning. I zip here and there accomplishing feats at which others marvel.

It is also the thing I must actively work against if I am to redefine my pace. I must find a way to balance my biological need for speed with my spiritual need to slow down. I must find ways to keep this rhythm when others around me are still quick and deadlines still approach. I have to create an external structure and system that is malleable, flexible, and yet still unwavering that empowers and enables my need to slow down. This system has to be easy to use and be integrated into all aspects of who I am. It must become a part of my identity.

Here is where the transitions of the Fall can help. It is a season of preparation for what is yet to come. We get ready for the shortening of days and cooler weather (well cooler for most places). We transition back to school or hunker down at work with the memory of summer and its joy fading to nostalgia. We harvest what is left of the crops and prepare for the planting and growing in the Spring. We naturally start looking inwards and slowing down. We resist, momentarily, the quickness of pace that we know is coming. We hold on to the memory of the "lazy days of summer".

Similarly, the seasons always come and go. They don't care about man's time or its passage. They just keep their own time. They force us into their pattern. And, as much as we like to claim our victory over nature, it controls our lives more than we control it. We can learn an art here: the art of release.
It is in this transition that hope for staying slow resides. I find myself in contemplation and reflection trying to plot and plan my next move. I am careful of where my steps will lead and open to diversions on my path. I am stepping back and removing my self from old patterns of behavior that are not useful or helpful or supportive. I am doing all of this because I was forced to. Now, I must continue it because I want to.

As I move in to this new season, I make a commitment to remembering and reflecting. I believe that these tools will force me to slow down, and the system that will enable these tools are the simple cues I can take from nature. I can pay attention to the shortening of days and the cooling of air and use this as a reminder that time always passes, and I am but one tiny cog in its passage. I can listen to friends and colleagues share their stories, find reminders of quickness and slowness in them and use their lessons to guide and modify my pace. I can cook and create from scratch sauces and concoctions that take hours to prepare using the time as my metronome for the rest of the day, week, month, year. I can relax and enjoy the simple pleasure of quiety and solitude being alone with my thoughts so I can hear my self whisper its reflective lessons.

As I enter this Fall, I hope that I do continue this down slow and winding path. I hope that my actions ripple outward and create in its wake a place of respite from the ever quickening world. And I hope that I find myself forced into another transition. For in this space, I have found a my self.