This is not an erotic question!
Would it drive you crazier if things went ‘too’ fast, or ‘too’ slow? Would you worry that you’d miss out on more of life if things went too slow, or if they went too fast? Is there such a thing as a perfect speed, or is the best we can hope for some sort of balance between faster and slower times – faster traffic, slower weekends (sex on the slower side)?
When it comes to the length of our lives, I’m sure most of us would prefer a marathon to a sprint – although there is the age-old question of quality over quantity.
I luxuriated in the slowest of sublime weekends on my annual yoga retreat that was still over too soon. Ironic when slowing down, relaxing and reflecting feels like it’s finished just as it is beginning. It certainly feels great while it lasts.
I won’t bore you with too many pretty pictures.
Back home Sunday afternoon and after the warmest of greetings from and for the kids that only amplified my warm glow inside, I didn’t mind doing the grocery shopping that Mr Yang didn’t get the chance to do (because he was stuck with Daddy dance eisteddfod duties all afternoon Saturday – thank-you Mr Yang!). I sped through the supermarket, cheery even. I happily did the homework help that is never all that easy when it gets left until Sunday night.
Monday morning and since I’d accidentally left the kid’s school photo forms at work I made a sneaky early dash into the office to collect them (wet hair, tracksuit) while Mr Yang made the lunches. All good.
My yoga veneer started to crack when Miss Yin couldn’t find her school novel (again) and I realised that she hadn’t made the effort to include something in her assignment that I’d guided her to, nor structure it as I’d suggested. Last minute assignment additions as I lectured her about being lazy (yep, yoga veneer sliding away) and told her I was disappointed several times. Ouch. And then the rush out the door to make photo time.
With the kids at school, I had decided to swap my work day off so Mr Yang and I could brave IKEA. What was I thinking – IKEA was surely going to burst the yoga bliss bubble.
We’d planned out our purchase of new wardrobes and blinds, but planned with military precision (or not actually), four hours was never going to be long enough – is four hours ever long enough at IKEA? They could come up with a new marathon race – following those big arrows around the IKEA showroom, dodging the dawdling browsers and seeing how many random items that you (possibly don’t need) can fit in that big yellow bag. Or a new Olympic decathlon event – locating and loading 25 boxes of assorted flat-pack furniture, and then finding 50,000 odd different fittings to match – the trick being to complete the task and somehow get through the checkout queue in time to race to pick up the kids from school (not that I’d recommend speeding on the motorway).
A friend was enlisted into IKEA saviour duties (ie school pickup) in case our Olympian efforts proved less than gold medal winning, and we had to bail on picking up the sliding doors from the nearby warehouse (no-one told us they were in a separate location) pleading ignorance because paying without picking up that day is just not the Swedish way. Poor Mr Yang faces a repeat trip back up the motorway to secure said doors.
At home I raced to pick up Miss Yin’s dance gear and then Miss Yin to take her to a last lesson before her dance audition this morning for a high school dance excellence program.
And then I raced from dance studio to make yoga class. I know what you’re thinking– not yoga again you self-indulgent so and so (or cow, whatevs).
But I have to do set classes as part of yin yoga training so suddenly yoga had become just one more commitment in the chaos of a day. Not that it felt like that as I relaxed, slowed down, breathed again (and came home to dinner cooked by Mr Yang, bless his Bond’s socks).
More homework help (I’m just so in love with sight words), bills paid, work emails answered, school lunches made, yoga class reflections recorded in compulsory journal and pep-talk given to Miss Yin for her dance audition and the day was nearly done – blog-postless.
Finally, dance audition over (she did beautifully), prep reading group done and work priorities at bay and I can only fill this blog post with fast and slow, with precious little balance in between. Perhaps this blog post is the balance in between and for that I am grateful.
I’m grateful for a lot of things – especially yoga retreats and a husband who keeps the home fires burning (fire fighter and all) – and time, precious, glorious time, even if like IKEA, it seems to want to play tricks on you (as in the chest of drawers we bought for Miss Yin, minus the lovely stencils words – who doesn’t love ‘joy pants’ – stencils aren’t even sold separately)!
So the moral of this post – things aren’t always as they seem. Enjoy the fast, savour the slow, and most especially love the in-between. Are you a ‘time moves too slowly’ or a ‘time goes to fast’ kinda person or a bit of both? Have you ever been duped into buying something that didn’t end up being what it seemed? Linking up (late) with the lovely Jess for IBOT.