With my broken leg, I’ve had to slow down my movements even considering that I had long covid and was already slow.  Now, I’m at a snail’s pace.  Life is different when you move slowly.  When you must plan outings including a simple trip upstairs to get a forgotten hairbrush.  You learn to prioritize, to multitask, and to be patient. 

Patience, indeed.  This has been a humbling experience.  I thought the indignities of long covid were awful.  At least with long covid, I could do for myself, it just took me a long time.   With the leg, the pain would stop me in my tracks.  “I have to sit down now.” “Can you help me?”  “I can’t.” all became part of my daily lexicon.  The “I can’t.” was the hardest lesson of all.

I can’t is anathema to the American battle cry of Pull yourself up by your bootstraps.  What nonsense.  John Donne said, “No man is an island” and this is such a great truth.  We are interconnected and if you slow down when it hurts, you will realize that in three dimensions – real-time.

Slowing down when it hurts is a natural phenomenon.  Pain stops us.  Makes us pause.  Makes us reflect.  Why am I feeling this?  How can I make it stop?  What can I learn from this?

Steve Almond was talking about writing when he said “Slow down where it hurts” and I believe it’s good advice there too.

Under normal circumstances, I move at 90 mph.  My anti-mantra has always been “More time” “More time” “More time.”  I don’t need more time.  I need less to do.  I need to slow down and let some of this just go.  The extraneous bullshit of my life. 

My broken leg has taught me this.  It has taught me efficiency which frees of time.  It has taught me to ask for what I need – one of the most powerful lessons we can learn – instead of trying to manufacture it on my own. 

Slow down where it hurts is a universal message that applies to everything.  Rushing is not good for us and provokes the hurt in the first place.  Had I been slower that fateful night in August, I would not have tripped over the suitcase in the middle of the room and broken my leg. Had I been going slower, I wouldn’t have dropped the suitcase in the middle of the floor and rushed to the next thing.  Had I been going slower, I wouldn’t be in this situation.

But this situation has been good for me. 

However, do not let inertia set in.  This too I have been through.  Inertia is the result of stress, fatigue, defeat. It’s what happens when you’ve gone too fast when it hurts.  Inertia is “slow down” taken to the extreme.  Extremes are almost never a good thing.  I’m fond of saying that if you do not rest, your body will stop you and force you.  I should listen to me now and again.  I do have the occasional pearl of insight. 

I’m anxious to be out of this boot.  I’m anxious to be over long covid.  I long to have my life back or to forge a new one that suits my mission.  But right now, I have to go slow where it hurts.    

But he said, slow down.  Not stop.  Most of life is not as extreme as a broken leg.  Slow down when your heart aches – linger over a cup of coffee, enjoy the sunrise, pet a cat.  Slow down when you remember an injustice or see a new one, wrap yourself in a blanket of self-love and luxuriate for a moment in the knowledge that you are safe, warm, and loved.  Slow down when life becomes so hectic that you lose your mission – you forget your goals and objectives.  Slow down and develop your mission if you don’t already have one or it needs refinement.

Just…Slow… Down.