Hurry Preys on the Young

Age discrimination comes in many forms. Hurry discriminates against the mature or maybe it’s vice versa – it is we, the mature, who discriminate against hurry. By its very definition, hurry or the act of hurrying is attempting to reach something, someone, or some place by a defined time or ASAP. As we add years to our journey, more and more we are asked “have you fallen in the last 3 months?” and sometimes, the question is more presumptuous when we are asked “how many times have you fallen?” I take issue with this because “I don’t do falling! It’s not in my repertoire or my portfolio!” And, contrary to my doctor’s beliefs, I’m not adding it either. I take umbrage against “hurry” for it can be a recipe for disaster.

The irony of the situation is that I DID (past tense) most of my falling when I was young, mostly before I reached 30 years of age. No doctor then asked me how many times I had fallen in the last 3 months. In every instance I was rushing for one reason or another:

• One time I was rushing to catch a bus to go to work which was something I normally didn’t do since my job was a 20-minute walk from my home. But it had snowed the previous day and was very slushy and icy in certain spots. As I saw the bus coming, I started running to reach the bus stop and summarily fell on my pride. Not only did I miss the bus, but, of course, my clothes were ruined and I had to take the trip back home to change.
• Another instance was on one of my day’s off. Since I was downtown, I decided I would try to catch my friend before she left work in one of the government buildings. It was close to 5:00, so I went bounding up the stairs, only to realize too late that the top step was larger than the others. Anyone who thinks falling down the stairs is ugly has never fallen up the stairs. A young man stopped to ask me if I had hurt anything to which I replied “only my pride.” To add insult to injury, my friend had not even gone to work that day.

I also take affront at the now-current commercial that infers that somehow silence and staring into space to meditate and get lost in our thoughts somehow means we are “lost”. I realize with each passing year that I find less and less things for which or to which I want to hurry. I relish the slower pace of life:

• One morning, to stare out my window with my cup of coffee and watch the bird sitting in the tree watching me. And to ponder our differing positions in God’s kingdom
• One afternoon, to read one chapter in a friend’s novel that I have had in my possession (unread) for more years than I care to count; and even to get “lost in thought” reminiscing about our years working together, or the trials and tribulations each of us experienced attempting to start and grow our own businesses, and even the current successes of our forays into publishing.
• One evening, maybe to sit in the dark (or not) and be gratified in the accomplishments (big or small) of my life, to analyze things I could do differently, if the opportunity should arise again, and to take satisfaction in what I possess, material or spiritual.

We are not always slow because we can’t move any faster; it’s because we might miss something if we whiz by. The sitting in silence is not a sign of mental decay, but of mental gymnastics as we travel up the conveyor belt of our minds, remembering the relationships that shaped who we are and where we are today; reviewing the strengths and weaknesses we exhibited throughout our lifetime; and relishing in the anticipation of “what’s next?”

Hurry is definitely for the young, but even they are deprived of soaking in all that life has to offer.