Life in a slow lane

T-3 Days: Friday September 27th 2024

Standing in the big hall, I slow myself, allowing every moment to unfold as I take in the pictures, things,  and the empty space around me. For the first time, I appreciate the chasm between inside and outside. Today, I am an insider; tomorrow, I will be an outsider.

The office is deserted. A planning offsite has drawn away most of my peers, leaving the space quiet and still. I chose not to attend. Execution will go on without me. For me, there is no finish line.

As I prepare to leave, I gather my belongings—the books, notes, and the ancillaries I hadn’t realized I had amassed. Opening one of my notebooks, I see the familiar rhythm of my daily habit: notes marked with dates and my thoughts etched into ink-dotted pages. Through these pages, I see my past life flowing. When we run, we seldom realize the effort we expend or the distance we cover—how our context morphs and how we connect, only to disconnect again.

Today, I am not running. I am walking slowly, immersing myself in the slow lanes of the past. For almost 30 years, this space was entwined with me, inseparable. Now, I strive to create a separation, and it feels achingly difficult.

Beauty must be experienced—not merely seen. Seeing is fast and fleeting; experiencing requires a deliberate slowness. It is in this slow process that something starts to emerge within. I long to capture the moments of the coming days and share. I want to learn to experience moments slowly before I capture them. It’s like the magic a camera does when it captures a sunset. I want to learn that magic.

Perhaps, if we pause for just a moment—to truly look at the empty space between ourselves and the world—we may uncover something precious, hidden in the corners of time.