Slow

I quietly explore my bodymind pace. I scale my slow up as a possible practice centre in itself. Slowness is a foothold. I create, do, move from where I am at my pace, my slow pace, only when I am ready. Slow meets me where I am. For the first time I meet myself where I am. Slow is a loving deferral. My slow and its long exposures mean an idea that rises will be explored and made much further from the original point of initial creative tension and generation. Slow is waiting long enough and the still-forming bodies of my ideas will float by. Slowness is endurance. Because care equals time. Slow is about pace agency. Claiming slow... my slow... is my first commitment to ‘self’, still with a small ‘s’. To sustainable embodymindment. To undoing. To undoing as doing.

This attunement to my time, to my slow, in the place of praxis feels radical and empowering. I braid slow with my practices and it affords me an everyday understanding of my temporal disability experiences. Slowness, time, elongated pace is infused with the biological, emotional, mental and neurological affecting my understanding of my bodymind temporalities and creativity. Slowness as a lens onto-into practice affords me a complex accessibility to an action/(un)action/(in)action spectrum I have not felt allowed to experience and articulate with meaning. I start thinking of practices as slowly morphing shapes. Of myself, of process and processing, as a slowly morphing shape. Porous and malleable-relational. Slow... slowly disintegrates boundaries and thresholds. Slowness offers me a bodymind-creating spectrum of fluid duration. A growth without force. It is not movement from force (toward, away, against) but slow interval itself that creates motion. Slowness affords temporal, relationally rhythmed durations. I lean, fall into this. I make sense here.