Rush… At first I don’t notice because it has always been my default movement, and way of being, rushing here and there even in my mind, hurrying about. But over the last few years I have tried to be more intentional in my presence, more intentional with my movement and thoughts, more ordered, less chaotic, less rushed. A hurried heart rushes past faces of people who need me to be slower, more intentional even for a moment to look them in the eyes and smile, to let them know I see them and that they matter. My body starts sending me signs of the rush, brain moving at high speeds with little focus, tight shoulders, shallow breathing…. usually ending with me flying around a corner and bumping into someone. It jars me, and hopefully alerts me to my rushing about. Rush– in such rush- what for? I don’t want to miss these moments, these opportunities to give and receive, but if I am not intentional all the rush overtakes my days and steals joy and connection from my life.
Time is a relentless river. It rages on, a respecter of no one. And this, this is the only way to slow time: When I fully enter time’s swift current, enter into the current moment with the weight of all my attention, I slow the torrent with the weight of me all here. And when I’m always looking for the next glimpse of glory, I slow and enter. Weigh down this moment in time with attention full, and the whole of time’s river slows, slows, slows. -Ann Voskamp
Inkblot Life 
I can totally relate to this, and I, too, am just learning how to slow, how to simply Be. Thanks for this. (From a fellow FMFer)
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I don’t want no quiet river
(for my Christian wife this shocks);
for my soul, Lord, please deliver
rapids fanged with bloodstained rocks.
Let the tumult and the roar
of untamed water, flying spray
be my manna all the more
unto this, my dying day.
Let me drink the strongest rum
with a hearty “Yo-ho-ho!”,
and let the man that I’ve become
face things the meek will never know.
Bring the impact, break the bone,
and the grace to die alone.
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