I sometimes feel sluggish, though usually resist the slow and quicken with each minute.
Fullness of life pressures my blood to flow fast.
By Friday it's all felt too familiar--this routine.
I secretly pang for rest.
The beat of my heart steadily increases its rhythm as Me Time nears an end each morning.
It's a race, this week-long living.
To cram in as much as we can. To be better and more and good-er than the day before.
I am overwhelmed with the disgust in busy. Crazed at the pace we set for our children.
Relationships could be fuller and richer
if we just sweep away the excess in our schedules.
If we slow, we will hear the rain cascading off the roof and onto our porch.
The steady beat of the clock will be noticed.
Time might not seem to whirl away.
And our bodies, they might find calm.
Real doesn't have to be a race.
"...for five, short, bold beautiful minutes... unscripted and unedited...
without worrying if it's just right or not."