No tengo prisa*

I've been reading the daily meditations of Melody Beattie in "Journey to the Heart," and this morning's topic was "Why Hurry Through?"  As in, why hurry through life? Good question.


"When we hurry," writes Melody, "it is as if we are dancing out of step to the music. We become out of sync."

When I'm out of sync, I'm sunk.  

Probably the thing I hated most about going to school was the stress of getting ready in the morning, my mother's irritability over my inability to keep pace with her, the anxiety over whether I was remembering everything. Rushing so often led to disaster. One morning she dropped me off at school, I looked down at my feet and saw I was still wearing my bedroom slippers. Not something one could get away with in hyper-critical junior high, so I slogged the whole mile home and called in sick. Another morning we forgot to make sure my kitten was safely tucked away in her box in the garage, and Mother backed the car over her. With no time for my grief, she just dumped the kitten in the garbage and shoved me into the car. Tight schedules don't leave time for things like emotions. (Could that be why some people are addicted to rushing?)

I just seem to bumble through life at my own pace.  I always felt a little ashamed that I couldn't function in life's fast lane, but Melody's message is reassuring. "Step in time to the music—the rhythm of your soul," she advises. I like to imagine my soul's rhythm as something like a smooth, sweet, slow tango.


*No tengo prisa means I'm not in a hurry. One of my favorite expressions.

City birds just seem to find out early...

At least one of the nestling red-tail hawks is now a fledgling, and has already figured out that if he gets tired, there are cars parked down on the street where he can take a break. A photographer spotted him there and caught this lucky shot.

As of yesterday afternoon his nestmate was still perched on the rail of the fire escape on an office building in downtown Portland, OR, working up his courage to take flight. I've been checking the nest periodically on the webcam site and he's no longer visible, so maybe he's airborne. The parents both showed up yesterday morning with food for them, so even the reluctant one won't starve.


The blog accompanying the webcam says the babies were more mature than most fledglings, so they have a better chance of survival.

I'm already feeling a twinge of empty nest syndrome.