Every injury I've ever experienced has come from rushing. After over 40 years of life, I'm starting to notice a connection between the pain I cause myself and others and a lie I've believed for as long as I can remember...
I'm in pretty good shape. I exercise every day—weights, yoga, walk, run. I rarely hurt myself while exercising. But I've hurt my back tying my shoe. I've hurt my neck turning to look at something. I've even hurt my hip just thinking about something.
Tying my shoe, turning my head, or thinking something is not the problem. The action is irrelevant. It's not what I'm doing, it's how.
The how in the case of my back, neck, and hip injuries has been the same: rushed. I was tying my shoe, but before I had finished, I moved to the next thing. Something "tweaked." It felt as though I was split apart. In a way, I was.
For whatever reason, I felt I was behind. This feeling was the result of a thought, and (this is so important) this is a thought I chose to think. I felt "behind." So, before I was finished "here", I moved on to "there." I chose to rush.
But we can only be where we are.
This is true for space and time. I may be able to do 100 push-ups, but I will never be able to be here, tying my shoe, while also being there, walking out the door.
It also true for thoughts and presence. Have you ever talked to someone who you can tell isn't listening? They were trying to be in two places as once. As a result, you were left alone. Have you ever been that person? I have. Far too often, and with some of the most important people in my life.
Rushing doesn't only cause physical injuries.
Rushing splits us apart. We're not meant—or able—to be in more than one place at one time. When we try, there are natural consequences. The fracture may manifest in our body. It may manifest in our family. Our community. Our world.
Look around. You'll see the injuries we've caused by our unwillingness to accept a natural law: we can only be where we are.
Here is another natural law: nothing can take less time than the amount of time it takes.
Rushing is not faster. It wastes energy. It directs energy inward, seizing us and dampening the thing we were trying to do. Rushing hurts us, and it slows us down.
Picture an incredibly fast runner. They are fast without rushing.
Rushing hurts us. It hurts the ones we love. It hurts our world. And it never works—it makes is slower, not faster. It's a bad habit, rooted in our belief in a lie. An empty, man-made religion, birthed from fear and capitalized on by insecurity and greed. And it's not going anywhere anytime soon. Billion-dollar industries are built upon this lie, and its grip on us.
No one is going to do this for us.
You are literally the only person on this earth who can do the most important thing you have to do. Be. Here and now.
Everything you need, everything the ones you love need, and everything our world needs, flows—freely and abundantly—through the path that opens when you and I choose to be.
It's okay to feel the urge to rush. It comes from insecurity. We can feel insecure without being insecure. We can feel rushed without rushing. It's our choice. And that choice is everything.
Picture that incredibly fast runner. They are fast without rushing. That runner is you.
You don't have to try to be fast. You are fast. Rushing is pretending you're fast. Don't pretend to be something you already are.
Look up. Really, right now, look up from your screen. Try to fully let in the light and colors around you. You'll have to let go of old things to take in these new ones. Notice how your body and breathing change when you do this. This is the feeling of coming back. It's not complicated, but it is a profound experience.
Time is not running out. You're exactly where you need to be.