Slowing down

Six weeks here.  I’m on the edge of an interesting warp in time.

The sweet clerk Keisha, in her beautiful Georgia drawl said, “don’t worry, they’ll send someone up to the other register.” She asked me about my day, and said, “you’re not from around here, are you!”  She stepped out from behind the counter and enveloped me before I left, a generous warm hug with a genuine smile.  She said, “Augusta is happy to have you. You’ll do well here.” And she meant it.

The people are friendly and polite, and it is sincere.  There’s an interest, a kindness that is disarming. Passersby say excuse me, and smile. Strangers ask questions with curiosity.  People aren’t rushing.


And it’s not just the people that are moving more slowly. The earth invites me to slow down.  The tall evergreens hide the sky with their sparse stillness and cocoon me in place.  There’s not much to see, not much to look at.  Skinny matchsticks everywhere.  It could feel like jail, but mostly it doesn’t.  It feels safe, quiet, slow, still.

My body tells me it’s time to slow down. Periods of needing days of rest, and general malaise, followed by openings of life and vitality that I haven’t experienced in decades.  I’m listening.

And my practice invites me to slow down.  The more I experience the vast infinite presence of potential and possibility, the more I know myself as unbounded freedom and stillness, the more I live as the non-separate, compassionate wisdom that is everything, the slower my life as Elizabeth in Georgia becomes.




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