For most of my life, I believed that progress required urgency.
Perhaps that belief was planted much earlier than I realised.
As a child, I was often sent running to the shops by my stepfather. Before I left, he would spit on the ground and point to it.
“If this spit is dry by the time you come back… you know what will happen.”
He was generous with his belt, and I was terrified of physical pain.
So I ran.
I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. There was no strolling. No lingering. No enjoying the journey. Only the desperate need to get there and back before the spit dried.
Looking back now, I realise I learned very early that slowing down could be dangerous.
Perhaps that is why rushing became my default setting for so much of my life.
As I grew older and had children of my own, the rushing never really stopped. There was always somewhere to be, something to fix, someone to help, a deadline to meet, or a problem waiting to be solved.
Productivity became a habit. Busyness became a badge of honour.
Like many people, I convinced myself that if I worked a little harder, moved a little faster, and carried a little more, I would eventually reach whatever goal I was chasing. Then, surely, life would slow down.
But the finish line kept moving.
Each achievement gave way to another responsibility. Each destination revealed another road ahead. And before I knew it, I had spent years hurrying through moments I would never get back.
THE FINISH LINE KEPT MOVING
Lately, however, I’ve been learning a different lesson.
I’ve been learning how to live without rushing.
Not laziness.
Not complacency.
Not giving up on my goals.
Simply learning that not everything requires urgency.
A few days ago, I spent hours cleaning my lapa. It had become a place where things were stored, forgotten, and neglected. Dust had settled everywhere. Spider webs hung from corners. The space had slowly become invisible to me.
And as I cleaned, a thought surfaced.
For years, I have dreamed of bigger things. New opportunities. New adventures. Perhaps even a big home near the ocean one day.
But here I was neglecting a beautiful space I already possessed.
The thought stayed with me.
How often do we overlook what we already have while focusing on what we hope to gain?
How often do we rush past today’s blessings because our eyes are fixed on tomorrow’s possibilities?
The truth is that life is happening now.
Not when we earn more money.
Not when we lose weight.
Not when we move house.
Not when we finally achieve some distant goal.
Now.
This morning’s walk reminded me of that.
I was tired.
My body felt heavy.
Yet somehow it carried me forward one step at a time.
There was no grand achievement.
No finish line.
Just movement.
Just gratitude.
And perhaps that is what growth really looks like.
Not dramatic transformation.
Not overnight success.
Just a series of small, faithful steps taken consistently over time.
The older I get, the more I realise that peace is not found in constantly chasing the next thing.
Peace is found in fully inhabiting the present moment.
In appreciating what is already in our care.
In doing today’s work without being consumed by tomorrow’s worries.
In walking when we don’t feel like walking.
In cleaning the space we’ve neglected.
In showing up for our lives exactly where we are.
There is wisdom in slowing down enough to notice.
The world encourages us to hurry.
But some of life’s greatest gifts reveal themselves only when we stop rushing long enough to see them.
Perhaps growth is not always about getting somewhere faster.
Perhaps sometimes it is about learning to be fully present where we already are.
And maybe that is enough.
For today.
If you’d like to share your thoughts, you’re welcome to reach me directly at books@eugenemarillier.com
I also publish reflective essays and ongoing writing at: www.eugenemarillier.com
With love always,
Eugene Marillier 🕊️🌿
