what honest words she can't afford to say...

I am learning that things that move slowly are usually the most important and, as Mary Oliver puts it, "most things that are important, have you noticed, lack a certain neatness" - like the way winter moves into spring...but i want to say something more on the idea of slowness today.
I was always raised with this ideal of efficiency and the idea that it is important to get things done to the very best of your abilities, in the smallest amount of time necessary to do so. And though I still think that this is a pretty good thing in many situations, I have been really enjoying questioning that in small ways: Standing at the window watching the birds make tracks in the snow while the kettle boils rather than folding my laundry while I wait. Walking past my car to take city transit. Dancing to a Billie Holiday by myself in the kitchen while my supper cooks. Walking to the mailbox at the end of the street, picking up and examining interesting pebbles and rocks along the way.
I am in a strange place in life right now where I find myself floating between periods of excessive freedom with my time followed by short moments of rushing, busy work. And on the horizon, I can see a regular schedule and considerable busy-ness approaching with spring and landscaping nudging ever closer and so I feel as though I must make the most of the time I have left in this unusual lifestyle. And I've found that my soul finds its time best spent sipping tea in front of windows, bumping into strangers on the bus, swimming in jazz when dusk is just turning to night, sharing a pint of Guinness in cozy dark pubs in the early afternoon, baking cakes from scratch, letting the dough squeeze through my fingers and devour my hands and reading poetry aloud while laying in the middle of the kitchen floor.

I intend not to "step so quickly over this sacred place on God's body that is right beneath your own foot, as I dance with precious life today" (Hafiz).