Slug Life

​I stepped on a slug this morning, y'all.

In my kitchen.

Squish

I'm thinking, lord, what is that?

A Jelly glob... A rotten clementine slice?

And it was wonderful.

no, It's not wonderful that I stepped on him, I hate that I did. And then I stepped on him again... I should have gotten him out the door sooner, but I was right in the middle of pancakes, eggs, dishes and you know... Running the breakfast café.

But that guy, he was right on time.

I had *just * had the judgmental thought that I have had Millions of times.

I was thinkin: "man, I have wasted so much time. I should have been making music in high school. In college. in my stupid 20s."

Basically, I should have been better at this by now.

I should have already been "there".

And at that very moment...

Squish

I didn't just glance at a slug. I stepped on a slug... in bare feet. Right in my kitchen. Not outside in the front steps. In front of my kitchen sink.

Now this is a lot of build up for a slug...I know. But this guy... Well, not this guy in particular, but the spirit of slug, this animal's medicine has shown up for me lots in my journey... mostly when I am hammering myself over what the #!%¥ is wrong with me? Why can't I get moving on the millions of creative ideas I get... why do I take so long? (I've been wrestling with those type of thoughts for...uh, some time you could say.)

When slug has come I look up meanings and intuit for myself. And for me... Slug = the "slow" path is not a bad path.. It's a good path. It's your path. And its not necessarily slow. It's right on time for you. Oh, and by the way.. In taking the path the way you in particular take it... You will leave an iridescent sparkly trail behind you.

And that's what I want.

Maybe more than anything.

To leave a trail.

Markings by which life is made easier... More understandable... Where life makes sense.

Where someone struggling finds hope.

Where someone seeking finds there are many ways.

Isn't this what I want?

My path and my speed are special. They are uniquely mine. As are yours. What happens when I am able to relax into my speed, my rhythm? Because it's there. It shifts. But the truth is, I know the true beat of my heart by now, I know how she likes to move. I just need to trust her. To relax into her. And let go of the worries of not keeping up with the rest. What a silly game...

a tree is rooted in earth and spreads its arms to the sky. She Never bows her head to examine why she can't ever get her limbs to flap like the wings of the birds who rest in her arms.