I usually start putting together ideas for a blog posting weeks ahead of time. I jot ideas about what I want to say. I planned to write about a Chinese proverb I stumbled upon: “Be not afraid of growing slowly, be afraid only of standing still.” I wanted to reflect on how this idea related to my acceptance of aging. It would be a lament about my physical slow down.

Things happen, however. Last week I had to stop and stand still for a while. I contacted a terrible cold—went to the doctor and confirmed it was not COVID, Flu, pneumonia, or RSV but an old fashioned cold that I had not had for years. I felt miserable. Due to asthma issues, the bug hit my lungs. Moving around in my house was a physical and mental struggle. Doing nothing/standing still was a better alternative to going a snail’s pace!
Most of my life has been a whirlwind of activity. I have not lived in the proverbial slow lane. I have prided myself in moving quickly, reading fast, typing rapidly, and multi-tasking. A cat once taught me to move a bit slower in my house. She jumped up and ran away whenever I popped up quickly from sitting in a chair. If I moved slowly, she was much happier.
My mother bemoaned that when she was in her early 80s she just did not have the same endurance she used to have. I wish I had talked to her more about how she felt as I am going through a similar experience. I am hopeful, but doubtful, that I will get back to normal energy, whatever that is.
Consciously slowing down has enabled me in retirement to be more mindful and to absorb the world more fully. Coming to a standstill, however, has been difficult. CHOOSING to slow down or come to a standstill is different than having it forced upon me. Cursing slowness is not as bad as no movement whatsoever.
I feel better this week. Being patient with myself is not my strong suit. I work on adjusting to slowness, however, as it seems inevitable. I am gaining a deeper appreciation of growing slowly and doing what I can to avoid future times of standstill.