What is the freakin’ rush?
Why do folks drive on sidestreets like they’re cruising on the freeway?
When I’m walking my old dog-pal, Harry, through a crosswalk, I can just feel the impatience radiating out from the waiting automobiles like a cloud of toxic exhaust. Harry is 12-years-old…he’s slow. “Someday you’ll be old and slow!!” I often want to shout out to speeding motorists…but I don’t because I’d probably be arrested for acting “crazy” or “hysterical” and the dude going 90 miles an hour in a jacked-up pickup truck would just…well, speed away.
One time the Big H and I were in a crosswalk and the old guy was curious and stopped to sniff at the humongous grill of a silver two-ton SUV/pickup. I thought it was cute and smiled as I urged Harry to “come along.” I didn’t crane my neck to try to look at the driver’s face…I was afraid of what I might see…probably not something cute.
Of course, I am never impatient or in a rush…. Even if you count the 2,421 times at that I had to sit at the red light at the intersection of of Truxel Blvd. and El Camino Ave. when I lived out in the South Natomas area of Sacramento. Longest red light at one of the busiest intersections in the country…3 lanes of traffic stopped for at LEAST 5 minutes that seemed like 5 hours. In the 95-degree heat of summer. Rap music pounding through neighboring closed car windows. Exhaust fumes collecting in the air.
Nope, that never bothered me, no matter how much I just wanted to get home to my cats and the bathtub.
And of course, I never get impatient in the grocery store checkout line when a shopper’s whole cart full of stuff has been rung up and THEN the buyer rummages around in her purse to find her checkbook. And it’s like, she could have already pulled out the checkbook during the 20 minutes that the cashier was ringing up her purchases and written out all the info except for the amount. And then when the cashier announced, “That’ll be $102.71,” she would have been good and ready to just punch in those numbers.
And I never rush when I’m late for a meeting because I was absorbed with something I was doing at home and lost track of the time because I didn’t really want to out anyway. I just calmly and slowly throw on clothes and hit the bathroom and then nonchalantly go down the stairs and get in my car and do the speed limit all the way to wherever I’m going.
Nope, I’m never in a rush…well certainly not even 3/4 as much as I was when I was younger, that golden time zone when it seemed like the future stretched out endlessly and that there would always be time to get stuff done.
And now it’s like uh…could we tap on the brakes a bit please? I don’t have time to not have time. Or I do not have time to spare. So rushing is pointless…now is simply the time to take the time to savor the good stuff. To be with the moment. To stop, and just like Harry, take a look at a sparkling silver grill or a flower or a good book. It is a time to satisfy all those endless curiosities.
And of course, my cats are always encouraging me not to rush…they pile up on my lap so that I can’t get up or they sit on the shirt I need to put on or one of them quietly blocks the door. Another tactic is to run around my feet in order to, I guess, either slow me down or to cause a broken leg so that I will not be able to go out at all.
So I am patient as Harry plods along, smelling new smells, eyeing the squirrells, stopping to look at things that I have haven’t a clue as to why they are interesting. Gives me time to stop and look around too.
And as we slowly trek through a crosswalk, everyone else has to slow down too.