This past weekend I was accused of not walking fast enough. I think that shows real progress.

I’m not known for slow. Not that fast means I save any real time. Instead of measure twice, cut once – I’ll measure quickly, cut too short, then end up driving back to the building centre for more material. Speed may not always kill, but it can screw things up.

I had a sailing instructor once tell me the difference between a power boat and a sail boat is that on a power boat, you get on and go somewhere. On a sailboat, you get on and are there.

I like getting somewhere, whether that’s physical, emotional, whatever. Waiting is very hard for me. I don’t do line ups. I barely do traffic lights.

The thing is I should be in no hurry. I remember reading about the guy who became the youngest president of Chrysler motors. He sat at his big desk, in his big office, and thought to himself, “Now what? Why did I rush to get here?”

I have a young friend, he’s 18. He wrote me a sad note, “I feel like life is passing me by”.

There is virtue in lingering and meandering. There is passion in taking it easy. It takes time to see, feel, wonder. Slow is way more sensual than fast.

Time moves at the same rate – I gain nothing by trying to out run it. As I recently read, I do need to slow down. Even slower than that.