Hi, hi, hiya!

The last few weeks have brought San Antonio some desperately needed rain in the form of early morning thunderstorms and afternoon drizzles.  The plants are so happy and everything is bursting with green and newness thanks to this rain. I find myself on walks with our dog Chico, stopping every other block to take pictures of a neighbor's yard covered in wildflowers or a bombastic rose bush pouring over someone’s fence.  It's an embarrassment of riches it seems! This is what Spring is about– budding growth, renewed energy, and hints of beauty yet to come.  It’s in the midst of all this newness and energy that I’ve found myself craving some slowness and some margin.  Maybe these rainy days have scratched an itch I have to stay in bed a few more minutes to listen to the rain on the roof, or to read my book on the couch instead of jumping up to complete the next task. I am looking for more quiet moments of reflection, more snuggles on the couch with my boys, more moments to look at each flower and soak up its unique beauty. It seems counterintuitive to actively slow the pace when nature just seems to be revving up! But after sharing this feeling with some close friends and family, it seems like this is a symptom of the way that we live our lives these days in a technological rapid fire.  From the way that we receive information and communication, to the way that we consume goods and food. We are so used to moving at a pace that is proving to be unsustainable. 

Kids are actually great teachers when it comes to slowness… Sometimes painfully so! How can it take you 30 minutes to put your shoes on?! Well, when you’re laughing with your brother, or planning a scavenger hunt for after school, or showing me the infinitely complicated game you and your friends at school came up with, the shoes actually take a long time to put on.  I’d like to say that I’m mindful of this in the moment, but I’m not. I get so frustrated that we’re not already on the road! That we’re 5 minutes late again! That I feel behind the ball constantly…. 

Something I’ve been wanting to learn lately is how to garden, or in my case, keep a plant alive.  I have a few hearty houseplants that seem stubbornly committed to hanging in there despite my neglect, but I can’t say I’ve invested much energy in their survival. I’m thinking here about planting some native species of plants in our yard, and maybe one day a food garden would be pretty cool. What seems hard about this is taking the time to learn and to fail. I don’t have time for this! But I’m starting to realize that maybe this is where it starts. Making time and space for slowness, for learning, for listening and being patient. Could I cultivate a little slowness in my life through learning a new skill and studying nature’s example? It seems that this is a good start.  I’m finally reading Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer in my book club and listening to her talk about the infinite ways that reconnecting to the earth transforms systems, personal and political. This process of healing and integration feels like the balm that our culture needs. In her book, Kimmerer talks about indigenous practices of using plants and caring for plants in a reciprocal and symbiotic relationship. Through this oneness with the natural world, human cultures thrived and the earth seemed to give back tenfold. She points to our tragic disconnect from the natural world as a major factor in the broken systems that impact our society and the dire situation of our planet. So connecting with the natural world and how we take from it actually teaches us about care and interconnectedness and can bring about healing and wholeness.  This sounds beautiful and radical and… slow.  

For us, living in modern society it seems like we are so far removed from these ancient practices, how could we possibly find our way back to this wisdom? I think it must be a slow process of moments of redirection and refocusing.  It means actively saying “no” to the fast pace of consumerism and capitalism in favor of quiet moments of listening and learning. It means changing the way we buy things and what we buy because we take the time to learn how things are made and the harmful systems behind our fast track supply chains. I’m not saying I’m good at this. In fact I’m committing to being better about this. To being slower. To being more intentional and thoughtful. To letting us be late for school so we can talk about our big garden plans together in the morning. Or to taking a deep breath when it feels like the world is going to run me over if I don’t outrun it. There’s wisdom in the slowness and I hope that you can find some slow dreamy moments of peace and stillness to reconnect with the ones you love and the natural world that holds us. 

<3 Liz 

At WAYWAY we’re thinking about the earth and our relationship to it- the textiles that we use are gentler on the earth and require less resources to process. When we slow down and consider what we consume and how it affects our ecosystem, we soften and understand that we are all interconnected and our survival depends on the survival of the earth. When we pay attention to our impact- on the earth and on others– we can draw closer to one another in community.