Climbing up the steep hill at Foothills Park,
I reflect on this faint sensation
pushing from the back, pulling forward
without regard for the body’s buy in,
the heart’s sensitivities, the mind
taking over the whole endeavor
as if speed and production are key.
How often do I push patients, pull
at the loose ends of family and friends
to get somewhere, get something done,
the checklist seemingly complete
so I can finally stop and breathe?
I’m so tired of this conditioning,
this need to move at the pace
of a ticking time bomb ready to explode.
What would it mean to find my own rhythm,
heed the call of heart time not measured
in seconds, minutes, hours, even days
but in compassion, curiosity, creativity-
slowing down to create/discover
what it means to move at own pace?