Tonight my head and heart are a mesh up of the pleasure of skills coming slowly – but coming- and a meaningless pop song I can’t get enough of. Every time I pick up my axe that pentatonic scale gets easier and easier. I bend at my own pace using my own notes and I see my fingers doing things I’ve always admired in others.
I often think that my hair is as long as it was 3 months ago, but I run my fingers through the corse texture I’ve come to love and I feel it getting thicker. I enjoy everything about it. I love how clean it is and the refreshing feeling I get as warm water runs through my sculp… mmmmmh
It has occurred to me that we want to be loved the way we want to be loved. Our point of reference can be anything from the last love we experienced to how Christian Grey expresses love now -since he is real and all, right?- but we never take the time to learn how the one who loves us does it. Sure, there are no flowers, the eyes don’t sparkle – because he’s not in constant tears – but he shows it the way he shows it.
Maybe it’s time to to take the tortoise approach and slow right down. Moreover, It’s time to enjoy how slow it all moves. It’s a bittersweet feeling to see the beauty of something in retrospect and not while it stares you in the face. The tortoise did win the race against the hare didn’t he?