On Being A Turtle

I’m just beginning to realize I’m a “slow” person. I take my time to think, to process everything I do before I move forward to action. Although I’ve been like this all my life, for some reason the magnitude of my overall slowness, with the exception of my (sometimes) quick wit in conversation, has just recently dawned on me. My energy level due to many birthdays is waning, causing me to be even slower, and that may have sparked my realization.

My mother told me that I started talking at the age of nine months. However, no one could understand me (I wonder what language I was really speaking? Or was that a function of how I heard things?), so I stopped talking and didn’t start up again until I was a year and a half old.

In high school geometry class, our teacher Mr. Gregory started off the period with a fast thinking exercise with which I could never keep up. So frustrating when I knew I wasn’t stupid and when other students would have the answer the moment after Mr. Gregory stopped talking.

When I was still in my 20’s, a teaching colleague asked me one day why I walked so slowly. I was undone. I hadn’t known there was a preferred pace of walking. I hadn’t known people were watching me walk. I hadn’t felt slow. What’s more, I didn’t really have an answer.

I love to write, but it takes me forever to come to a finished piece that is acceptable to me, and I assume, to others. Other writers can knock off an essay, novel, or poem quickly, but not me.

I have also realized that being slow has aggravated me in all areas of production, all my life, from my walking and exercising speed, to my writing, to personal relationships. While I love being connected with people, especially those who vibrate at a higher level, I function better when I have time to myself. I lose myself when I am constantly engaged with others, going from one event to another. It’s as if the muscle memory in my brain needs time to catch up because it’s used to my slower pace.

A quotation by Hans Selye, CC, endocrinologist, has provided me some explanation and comfort for my need of large amounts of free time and my slowness.

“Find your own stress level—the speed at which you can run toward your own goal. Make sure that both the stress level and the goal are really your own, and not imposed on you by society, for only you yourself can know what you want and how fast you can accomplish it. There is no point in forcing a turtle to run like a racehorse or in preventing a racehorse from running faster than a turtle because of some moral obligation. The same is true of people.”

While I enjoy prancing like a racehorse from time to time, the truth is that what I need to survive is a slower pace. Now I know why. While others are passing me by, instead of wishing I could be as swift, I plan to embrace being a turtle.

 

 

Connectivity

 

 

My friend Carol and I got together recently for a joyous reunion, joyous because we have known one another since the first grade in our rural Northeastern Oregon town and when old friends reunite it feels good. While we were together, another friend of Carol’s joined us, and as the stories began to flow, she shared her experience of reuniting with the classmates of her youth. Musing aloud, we wondered at the phenomenon of getting back together with our former classmates.

 

As a former teacher, I am enjoying the same connection phenomenon as with my classmates. It’s a though students and teacher have become the same age and revel in reconnecting just as much as former classmates.

 

Why is it that we so enjoy seeing each other once again and it feels like we never were apart, even though we might not have connected over the span of 30, 40, or 50 years? Carol, her friend, and I speculated but never really came to a definitive answer. We just knew that this reunification happens, and in most cases, it’s lovely. Another one of those mysteries that we enjoy despite knowing why.

 

Then today I was reading No Ordinary Time by Jan Phillips and came across this:

 

“Quantum nonlocality teaches us that particles that were once together in an interaction continue to respond to each other no matter how many miles apart, and at a rate faster than the speed of light.”

 

(This also explains why I can sometimes know a person is going to call, write, or somehow get in touch with me.)

 

She continues: “Physicist Menas Kafatos writes: ‘Nature has shown us that our concept of reality, consisting of units that can be considered as separate from each other, is fundamentally wrong.’ Since we are composed of cells, molecules, atoms and sub-atomic particles, this makes each of us part of one indivisible whole, interconnected and interdependent.”

 

So now we have an answer, both metaphysical and scientific–which I believe more and more are one and the same. We come together because once we meet, we are a part of the other, and the other, us. It feels good when our molecules come home to roost.