This week I am at my home in the south of France, deep in the countryside in the foothills of the Pyrenees Mountains on the Spanish border (www.tournoulehaut.com). For late October the weather is incredibly mild, in fact the days are sunny and 20º C (68ºF). Definitely an “Indian Summer” as we used to call it when I was a boy in the US.
But I am not complaining, it’s perfect for what this week is all about. I am finishing up my new business book, LEVERAGE: The CEO’s Guide to Corporate Culture (just dealing with accurate references, citations and figures), my daughter is practicing for a couple of upcoming competitions and preparing for violin solo performances at Christmas, and my wife is catching up on some much needed sleep. A real family break week.
We all live pretty hectic lives and what makes it worse for me is that I get so used to the hustle and the hassle of city living and obligations, that I don’t even recognize how “speeded up” I am. Sort of like a junkie on meth who doesn’t realize what’s happening (okay, maybe not that bad, but definitely rushing around).
So, every morning I have been taking a morning walk up and down the dirt road leading from out house down to the county road, about 0.8km from to to bottom. A good way to get the old heart beat up and the blood pumping (my marathon days are long over due to a bad knee).
Anyway, today I was walking down the drive to the main road and about a third of the way down I noticed a slug making its way across the road from one side to the other. It was a pretty big fella, about five inches long and it was just coming out of the wet grass of the verge and into the dirt drive. In London I never really notice anything as I tend to keep focused on the destination, but as I am beginning to slow down to the pace of life here, I guess I am more observant.
I continued on down to the bottom of the road, turned around and headed back up the hill, at a faster pace this time to get the blood pumping. And there was the slug, this time about a quarter of the way across. I continued on, having things to do today and wanting to hurry and get my exercise over with.
Why am I always in such a hurry? Not only physically, but mentally as well? Somewhere between “gotta go” time and “slug time” should be just about right!
Tight Lines . . .
John R Childress