To slow down
We smile and there are more lines than ever before; a sign of a life well lived
My Grandad joked about growing old recently, and it gave me the push I needed to publish this one.
I’ve been thinking that to slow down is to truly live. To enjoy the little things. To never miss a moment. To really see the world around us.
In life, it so often feels like time is running on fast-forward. Like the ‘skip’ button on the remote is being continually pressed. Not going by in a buffer, but going by in a blur. Blink by blink.
So much happens, and it always feels like it’s happening at once. The fast-forward is on too intensely, but it can’t be stopped. It’s stuck. Something’s holding it down.
We work so hard through childhood, adolescence, adulthood, to make something of ourselves. To be successful and leave a legacy. To answer the childhood question: “What do you want to be when you’re older?” and not do ourselves a disservice. To live life to the fullest. If we’re lucky, we create so many memories that we need to upgrade our storage; to pay for more. So much living and doing and being that flies by on fast-forward. Straight into valuable memories. Straight into storage.
The thought of the hustle pausing, just for a moment, is exciting. Intriguing. Almost cathartic. It’s alien. “It’s just go go go”, they all say. What would they say if it wasn’t? ‘Live, laugh, love’ hanging from countless kitchen cupboards - the type of life yearned for personified in a cheesy quote. Calendars bursting at the seams with work meetings, appointments, catch ups, dinners with friends. With life. With laughter. With love. Everyone’s is different. Some seemingly busier, fuller, stretching the seams more profoundly. But the fast-forward feels the same for everyone. The time for turning the page on a new month arriving just as quickly.
We become less selfish as we age, as more people become reliant on us. We merge our path with others and swear we feel the fast-forward accelerate. We give so much. Families grow and change. There’s too much going on that it’s hard to keep up, but it’s all so great - even in the times when it’s not. When we lose people, when it feels horrible, when loneliness eats us up despite there being more people around, when it’s hard to get out of bed. We know deep down that we’re lucky and we’re thankful to have had them, despite the hurt. It’s complicated. It’s still moving in fast-forward.
We make mistakes but we can’t rewind. We long to look how we used to, to have more chances to try something, to make more effort with people, to be kinder. But we can’t rewind, we can simply remember. And we can rejoice or recoil in what we see there. But we can’t change it, for it’s all still happening in fast-forward. Even when we lessen the burdens - when we have less on the calendar and less on our minds and more time to rectify, to improve, to fix. It’s still rushing on. New burdens, new opportunities, new adventures all appearing on the horizon.
But gradually, as we age, the space for new becomes smaller and less crowded. It becomes harder to fit in new burdens, new opportunities or new adventures. Even the best ones. And with this comes time; the easing of the fast-forward. The gift of slowing down. We smile and there are more lines than ever before; a sign of a life well lived.
It’s the most precious sort of time. Not the kind that previously would be filled with plans, with ‘let’s just squeeze this in so we don’t have to do it tomorrow’, or filled with comparisons, with longing, with worrying, with commotion. It’s the kind that lasts for the shortest length, but moves at the slowest pace. The most beautiful kind of time.
Access to the memory storage is granted, for there is now time to not just flick through them, but to replay them. To really live them as they were intended to be lived; with a fondness not truly appreciated at the time. To relish in them for everything they are worth. And to not be dragged onto the next moment in fast-forward. To zoom out and see how much has changed. To see how lucky we are to have starred in those moments, to have been with those people. To notice things we missed at the time. To see how people saw us; to look back.
To realise how short life is when you have the fast-forward on.
Perhaps this is what they call ageing gracefully.
This is all so true and so thoughtfully written.
In our younger years, we're so desperate to become adults, to become grown-ups, that we race through the milestones. Onto the next thing, onto the next achievement, onto the next big party, holiday, wedding... It's a wonder to be in my thirties, delectably savouring each perfectly slow day and the tiny nuances that build a life.