Slow like Molasses.

Learning life's sweetest lessons from my intentional child

Moving slow is not something I am good at.

Unless I’m running. Then I am sloooooooooow.

Otherwise, I move through life at the speed of light. Or at least I used to.

These days of wintering, I’ve been feeling the pull to move slower.

Deeper breaths.

Slower vinyasas.

More intentional moments of connection.

Savoring.

Being present.

All of this feels…so natural, and yet, so incredibly foreign.

I watch others who seem to have mastered the art of slowness, and I wonder if they were born that way, had parents who nurtured the slow, or learned, after decades of zipping through life, that there is another way.

You would think after 12 years of parenthood that I would have learned slowness by now, but you would be incorrect.

My daughter was the perfect teacher for slowness, evidence that you can be born that way, yet I barrelled right over her lessons.

Instead, she earned the nickname Molasses, a name that stuck and she wears with pride.

She moves with intention, doesn’t conform to the pressure of time.

She’s the child that chooses carefully.

What she will wear.

Where she will sit.

How she will show up.

What she will partake in.

Every last movement, every decision, is rooted deeply in her desire to be still, to be intentional, and to create from a place of authenticity.

She would be the perfect teacher, if I would just sit still long enough to hear her lessons.

But now, I think I am ready.

The moment has finally come when I seek slow over speed, calm over chaos, ease.

I seek ease.

Why pack my schedule with a to-do list 700 items deep when I can instead be in flow of life, moving with intention, intuitively knowing what is important and what needs doing, what needs marinating, and what needs to be released?

Why seek to accomplish all 700 items on that to-do list, when actually, that list will never be completed?

Why worry about the dishes in the sink when there are sunrises to catch and morning snuggles with my toddler to relish in?

Why frazzle myself with the futile attempt to complete 10 1-hour tasks in the 3 hours I have?

Seems silly to even try, and you’d laugh to know that’s just what I’ve attempted to do for as long as I can remember.

The time has come, though.

I’m ready to allow my children to show me the art of slowing down, to steep myself in the beauty of the world around me without rushing to greet my to-do list.

Perhaps it’s time to rename myself Molasses, too.