“It’s all about self-awareness. We cannot be more connected to other people than we are to ourselves.”
— Brené Brown
I am taking a winter break in La Paz, Baja California Sur, Mexico. (I know, taking a break from winter in Santa Barbara, California, is a bit ridiculous, but life often requires sacrifices.)
My bags were packed to the brim with plans: kayaking, snorkeling, exploring. God laughed.
My travel buddy has been nursing a sinus infection and her reduced energy invited me to let go of expectations and just relax, read, nap a lot, and contemplate life. It’s that contemplating-life thing that stirs things up.
I am retired with few demands on my time and energy. You would think that would be just about as slow as possible; however, as my time here in La Paz slowed down, I recognized that I have still been rushing: trying to read every book, write every word, photograph every last morsel of beauty.
Something here shifted. It might have been the dogs. La Paz may look like an extension of California, but it is definitely Mexico. During the night, the dogs bark … a lot. We’re in a mixed neighborhood typical of Mexico: commercial enterprises (each fenced and guarded by multiple dogs) sit side-by-side with residences (with their own dogs), and hotels and airbnbs (where people try to sleep).
Often the dogs get restless at night and, since I’m not worrying about losing sleep because there’s always naps, I’ve thought a lot about those dogs. The story I’ve told myself is that one of them gets lonely or scared and calls out to his friends … “Any one out there? Did you hear that noise? Did you see a stranger?”
And across the neighborhood, his friends begin to call back … “Yeah, I heard it, too. What was it? Make more noise; maybe we’ll scare it away.” And sometimes it sounds like they’re refighting the troubles of the day, “You took my bone! I’m pissed. You do that every time. Now I’m hungry.” And the others chime in, barking their own opinions into the brouhaha.
I listen to the canine drama as it reaches a crescendo and then drops away until one last dog … I think it’s the English Bulldog I see every day on my way to the malecon … he always seems to want the last bark. Part of me wants them to shut up and part of me wishes I knew the translation.
Somewhere in those early hours of listening to the dogs, though, I realized what a gift this slow time is, and as I chewed on that bone, it became a life lesson with its own acronym: SLOW.
SLOW: Savor, Listen, Own, Wonder
Savor … the dogs wake me in time to experience a stunning sunrise and watch the fishermen heading out for their day.
Listen … puts me into the minds of those dogs, feeling their insecurities and fears, recognizing their connection to my own, and noticing how my own mind often “barks” its insecurities and lonelinesses.
Own … reminds me that this is my life and I don’t have to respond to the shoulds and expectations of others. However, I do need to own and honor the journey I've chosen and live it fully.
Wonder … pulls me into life contemplating its mysteries and beauties.
I am grateful to La Paz, a place that seems designed for SLOW: peaceful waters, quiet beauty, and not a frantic bone in its body, and to the dogs, who are born understanding slow. Maybe, part of their barking is trying to teach the rest of us to slow down, relax … there’s always naps.
What part of SLOW calls to you as you become more self-aware of your life and yourself?
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Not yet retired, SLOW is not yet, nor has it ever been, a word associated with me. As the eldest daughter of nine children, my mother taught me to be fast, competent, resourceful and efficient. It's hard to unlearn those early lessons, but I'm peeking into what could be if I allowed myself to listen to inner wisdom. I do pause to savor beauty each and every day, and for that I am grateful. ❤️
Savor, listen, own, and wonder, OR IS IT, simplicity, openness, opportunity, and wisdom? I play with my own s-l-o-w acronym. Admittedly, this is after I enjoyed your artful slides and considered what great individual Instagram posts they would be. It is also after I responded to a friend seeking cruise companions to Norway this summer and suggested to her using my own on-board Later-life Assessment Activities. I always have the 'openness to opportunity' thing going. The 'simple and wise' portion of my thinking lags behind. Most often, slow means propping up my feet, wiggling my toes, being thankful I can move, and moving my awareness up my body from my feet to my head with genuine thanksgiving. There was a time in life when I did not have those physical sensations, now everyday seems like a miracle.