I'm Slow
Even writing this has taken... a long time.
A few months after I had Gioia in September of 2020, I got a call from Deborah. She knew when Gioia had been born, but said, “You are someone who needs a lot of time.”
This wasn’t something I had acknowledged about myself.
Deborah has known me as an artist since around 2012, but known me best in the context of her dance residencies, 2-week workshops exploring the philosophy of dance she has developed over her impressive & unique career.
I felt surprised and then gratified to be seen in this way, like someone had just observed a superpower I didn’t know anyone could see.
It’s funny that I think of needing a lot of time as a superpower, when it’s something that awakens impatience in others and is in no way appreciated in our culture. Perhaps it’s because, like Superman, it’s something I try to conceal. I try to come off as prepared, efficient, ready, capable & willing. Often I force myself to be so.
My great fear when I entered a 2-story junior high school was being trampled on the stairs by the sea of teens loping off to their next class. The intensity of keeping pace closed up my throat and tightened my insides.
Lately, I’ve been berating myself for not going after certain opportunities, kicking them down the to-do list until they lack all urgency, covered in a light film of guilt and regret. The gallery I’ve been meaning to follow up with for the last six months will soon have a show of mother artists, & I see I missed the hidden window. (Fear plays a huge part in this, and in most procrastination, and is a topic for another time.)
As I started a fresh to-do list for January, instead of berating myself for missing the mark, I thought, “I’m slow.” Not as an insult but as a simple fact. A part of myself as native as that dear old tortoise waddling to the finish line, while the flashy hare posts endless stories of their accomplishments. I know I’ll get there, some meaningful version of there, but it’s going to be slower than I might hope or expect.
I let myself go on developing, waddling forward, noticing & tending to other things along the way.
As I contemplate resolutions this year, my biggest resolution is to see myself for who I already am—not just a developing being, but a BE-ing—this-far grown, this-far wise, this-far loving, this-far adaptive and resilient & creative, this-far curious, successful & whole.1 I spend enough time looking for places to improve.
It’s something I have to remember to see with a painting too. Each day I come in and find what is lacking, what isn’t working, what could be added or changed. I have to remind myself to soften to a new mind and see it as it is.
Often a painting is finished once someone else has seen it, because in their presence, I can see it through the eyes of one who takes it just as it is. I don’t want to scrape away all that freshness.
What a gift to occasionally see ourselves as others see us: already there. Already indelibly ourselves. Not when we accomplish the next thing, but now, slow as we may be.
P.S. - A dream is coming true. I’m having a show with my mentor, Deborah Hay. I can’t wait to share more details soon.
I think I also had a variation on this resolution last year. But I’m slow, I need time to get it.
Oh, for a minute, I thought that was you currently lying on the floor pregnant again?! I am so enjoying my new piece of art from you. I have it on my bedroom wall so that I can awake to it every morning. xoxo
Yum! I love that you have words ..and that you're sharing them...for what your inside has known since before words. Hooray for Super Powers!