Today I was driving out of a parking lot, with my dogs in the car, and a woman almost reversed into us. She was on her cellphone. I managed to speed up and dodge out of her way, but I stopped, put on my hazard lights and got out of my car to talk to her. She had frozen, clearly ready for the confrontation. I asked her in the friendliest way to please not try and drive and speak on her phone at the same time and she almost burst into tears and spewed an apology, mumbling something about an emergency. I begged her to consider never doing this again, and showed her my dogs, waiting for me in the car, as if she should understand what was at stake.
But, as I carried on driving home I was overcome with how wrong we have gotten this whole speed thing. Why do we want to get everywhere faster? Why do we want to do everything quicker? Why is faster better? Surely it should be the other way around? Surely we should drive as agonisingly slowly as we are permitted to, to see all the fabulous things. Surely we should eat slower, walk slower, savour more. We should take longer to decide things, longer to fall in love, longer to miss things when they are gone. We should walk slowly with the dogs and enjoy them more. We should breathe slower and more deeply. We should enjoy slow, and indulge in it. Cook for longer. We should sleep longer, and take longer to fall asleep and take longer to get out of bed. Slow is delicious. I am going on a go slow tomorrow. Just for the deliciousness.