It’s a beautiful afternoon. The slight breeze rustling the air enough to prevent the bugs from gathering. The river babbles, it’s rhythm providing a soothing backdrop to my kids’ cheerful shrieks. My dog rushes in, never one to be left behind, always thinking he is one of the kids. My youngest daughter displays a mischievous grin, splashing her older brother, provoking a wet retaliation we all feel.  My doting husband stands in the shallows with my middle child, on the hunt for smooth rocks, primed for skipping. I breath deeply, drawing this quintessential moment in, feeling the warmth of gratitude swell in my chest, down through my limbs, as the true magic of the moment overtakes me. My mind recalls my yoga instructor reminding me to ‘stay present’. This. This is everything for which I want to be present.

We live in such a hustle culture, but recently, I’ve been sensing a shift. A shift for people to slow down, live life in the moment, not wearing the busyness like a badge. My Type A, stress-addicted-recovering personality bumps up against this culture shift- warning me that it’s not safe. That those who slow down, who live in the moment, are going to fall behind. Will find themselves considerably ‘without’ when the time comes: I have to be the ant, not the grasshopper.

I always believed that these two methods to living were competing rivals, with one obvious winner: the ant; but a silver lining of my being forced to slow down, to listen to my body, to appreciate tasking considerably less, has carved out space for me to attend to my heart. To recognize the enormous value in perhaps not necessarily being the grasshopper – nobody likes a mooch- but to find pockets of time, or even seasons of life, where I can simply enjoy, without the noise of the hustle culture creeping in.  

However, the ant in my head tugs me back to my reality, he’s always there, chirping at me, telling me to keep pushing. (Chirping? Maybe he’s more like a cricket? Maybe I have a Jiminy Cricket on my shoulder?) He is relentless and unforgiving until I find license, official permission from someone outside myself, to slow down. This approach seems sufficient at first blush. It tricks you into thinking your single-minded determination 99% of the time, with a 1%, externally validated ‘rest’ will be enough, but it’s not! We need and deserve SO MUCH MORE.

So how to wrestle Jiminy Cricket, or whatever over-bearing bug, is uninvitedly making his home on my shoulder into believing that I deserve better? That someone doesn’t have to give me permission? Practice. Practice. Practice. And just when I think I have mastered it, practice again, with my therapist’s memorable slogan: Catch Check Change. Catch the invasive thought; check whether it’s valid, true, and serving me; change if not. Instead of subscribing to the hustle-till-you-die culture, I’m creating an internal narrative, declaring that there are seasons of life where hustle is absolutely necessary, and seasons where we are meant to slow down, savor, and heal. They are not mutually exclusive, and the ‘hustle police’ or the never-ending hoards of ants, will not come for my accomplishments if I settle into a season of calm. They’ll be there waiting when I’m ready to invite them back on my shoulder; cringe, maybe not the shoulder. . .but back into my life. Let’s change our narratives so we can give ourselves the license, the permission, the approval, whatever it takes, to slow down and enjoy seasons of calm.