I have always been a plodder. Not only because I’m an incurable procrastinator; I think some of my “laziness” is methodological. I have always felt the need to pay attention to the many complex facets of a problem and listen to different perspectives before expressing my own attempt to form an assessment that is (I hope) guided by reality and worthy of consideration by others. This pertains particularly to writing. I can make rash judgments in conversation with others (especially when the opportunity to be witty presents itself, or the urge to complain when cynicism gets the better of me). Writing is different. Often my considered but far-from-perfect opinions and reflections change or acquire various nuances and distinctions as further knowledge and new circumstances occur. An ongoing blog has a “temporal arc” where written thoughts grow and change (even if no one else notices this except me). It has the characteristics of an open “diary,” an ongoing chronicle that stretches out over time and permits reflection and the development of understanding.
I have always plodded like the tortoise, observing and ruminating on what I see and hear, and articulating myself slowly — often first within my own mind, taking slow mental steps. I appreciate repetition (as you know if you read this blog) because remembering truths and expressing them “again” amplifies conviction and widens its depth and capacity for insight.
And for nearly two decades now, I have not only plodded. As a disabled person, I have “limped” through most things. I have become a sick old tortoise that inches its way along the course even as the increasingly “manic” hare of today’s global communications media runs faster and faster all over the field of opinion with little concern even for staying on the track. We sometimes benefit from the energy of these hares because they quickly (even if not always fairly) perceive strange intrusions on life that call for immediate attention.
I can appreciate the hares, as long as they don’t presume that speed alone wins the race. Perseverance in moving forward is more fundamental. I have found that “slowing down” doesn’t necessarily shrink one’s possibilities to discover and give one’s self while living a rich, engaging, challenging life. Vast spaces open up that would not otherwise be noticed. Compassion and empathy can become larger in one’s heart. There is time to wrestle with and ultimately find peace with one’s own peculiarity “uniqueness” as a person. One must pay attention, however, and seek out fresh possibilities when they present themselves. This means limiting distractions, moving step by step, slowly, steadily and focused toward the goal.
As the world ramps up further its engines of material “productivity” (and destructiveness), as well as the overwhelming volume, speed, and friction of “information” and its technologies, I can’t keep up with it all. But I’m not going to worry. Many people have the gifts needed to run in these fast lanes (and God will give them the grace to remain focused on what matters, if they remember Him).
I must continue on a slow and careful path, searching for and (I hope) finding those “two small coins” that will embody the gift I can give for the common good of my brothers and sisters, and to the One who gives me everything.
