“An unhurried sense of time is in itself a form of wealth.”
Bonnie Friedman.
Maybe falling behind isn’t such a bad thing.
It’s a term we might lean on when we’re experiencing a desperate desire to hold pace and a disheartening fear of what it might mean if we can’t sustain it.
In many ways, falling behind are the words of a pretty defeated soul.
It’s an experience shaped by the perspective we’ve inherited from society - one that says our very survival depends on holding the pace.
But that’s just one way of seeing things.
What if it isn’t that we can’t hold the pace, but we don’t want to sustain the pace?
Then, falling behind become the words of a person with the world at their feet.
Interestingly, I don’t have much experience with the fear of falling behind - directly anyway.
My experience is more of a covert fear of falling behind - expressed in the incessant need to be in the leading pack and be perceived as a high-performer (a byproduct of performance playing a big role in my childhood).
But lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the speed at which I’m choosing to live my life, the baseline speed society seems to be running at and the consequences of both.
In many ways, it feels like we’re mindlessly sprinting through life. Full throttle toward some imaginary finish line that moves further away in perfect harmony with the speed we’re moving - leaving us in a perpetual sprint with progressively less fulfilment.
And if that’s the pace or reality I’m clutching to keep up with, well shit, maybe falling behind isn’t so bad after all. Falling behind would just be the conscious choice not to compete for the win in the races I’ve no interest even being in.
In many ways, I think this is a realisation that’s been slowly unravelling for me over the last few years but only in the last month have I taken more deliberate actions to slow my stride. In the most tangible sense, falling behind is me challenging my own need to be perceived as a high performer.
And, honestly, I expected that to feel quite confronting. But that hasn’t been the case. Instead, there’s an ease and liberation in watching the lead pack fade (rush) into the distance - suckers.
As imperfect as my practice of this is, in falling behind I’m finding simplicity and within that is a conviction in who I am.
In falling behind I’m finding the freedom to shape and adjust my speed to meet the important moments or opportunities.
In falling behind I’m opening the possibilities of what I want to run toward.
In falling behind I’m opening to the scenery that, for the leading pack, is nothing more than a peripheral blur.
In falling behind I’m finding the generosity and spaciousness for the people I love.
In falling behind I’m finding the life of depth, awe and curiosity I’m after.
So, yeah, maybe falling behind isn’t so bad.
Maybe we all need to fall behind.
Maybe then there ceases to be a race at all. And in its place?
A shared adventure.
P.S you can live slowly and still hit the accelerator now and then. The difference is sprinting with purpose and intention toward a tangible, meaningful finish line - not living the 100-year sprint happening all around us.
Have a beautiful week legends.
With love.
Jesse