Day 71, May 26, 2020
Sloth
Ten toed.
It is late, so I've given myself a time limit. So this will be an industrious meditation on sloth, which appears to be the last of my 7 Deadly Sins. There is the immediate connotation of sloth, which in my mind is equated with laziness, indolence, and waste... but then there is also image of a slightly sleepy looking animal, who moves slowly, but with purpose.
I need Amanda's help to ID this one. |
As a child I was always a slightly late bloomer. My mom often wondered if I should have started school a year later. Being a September baby, I was always one of the youngest people in my grade and it seemed like I always seemed to hit my stride as a student a year after my peers. It took a while for me to build up momentum, but it didn't mean I wasn't trying. Even later in life, when I was working on my doctorate, I remember telling my boss, David, that even though I was hitting a rough spot (my advisor, Julie, had passed away and I was floundering), I tended to finish things even if I had to grit my teeth and drag myself through it, and I knew that about myself. But it did take several years more, and my substitute (and original) advisor, Dick was instrumental in my finishing.
People say that I talk slow. I never really thought about it as an identifiable character trait, and I'm not quite sure where that came from, but it certainly seems to have been exacerbated by my time in Tennesee. A few weeks ago, I did a live-stream performance from the Rendezvous in Turners Falls and when I was speaking between songs, I caught a bit of that southern drawl coming back to my tongue. I'm not sure what evoked that, perhaps it was the bluegrass tunes and old time finger picking. It was funny to catch that emerging like an old friend, or an old habit. Sometimes people don't know if I am pausing and thinking, or if I am not responding, or if I have drifted off in some internal tangent. I suppose, that may appear sloth-like.
I remember one time when we used to have open enrollment days at the college, the local radio station set up in the lobby and the president asked me to go and promote some of our programs. It was the local country music station and the DJ was a snappy morning host kind of fella who might as well have been chewing gum. He asked me a question and I started in with my response, not intentionally slow, but purposefully slow. I was trying to say the right meaningful things, but clearly, I was not matching his rhythm and he cut me off short before I put his audience to sleep.
I like excitement as much as the next person. I love the synapses popping when you are teaching a class or participating in a discussion and the ideas and thoughts are tumbling together in an avalanche of possibility. I think it is just, when that is not happening, I hope to be more thoughtful and meaningful with my thoughts (most of the time).
And then there is a grace in slowness. There is something beautiful in a slow thing that builds and grows. There is a joy in waiting, and finally realizing. There is a sonorousness in the well phrased idea.
I suppose I should reflect on these sins, and perhaps I will at some point, but I'm also relieved to have made my way through them and eager to just open myself up whatever else might emerge.
Goodnight,
Leo
The pond at Mt. Toby |
From Our Friends:
From Bob Barba:
These are friends of mine who have a community arts center in Jersey City and are soliciting Pandemic Prayer Flags, as described at the links.
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