Don't hurry, be happy

patience and priorities

For the first time in a while, I’m linking up today with the “Five Minute Friday” community, writing for five minutes on a given prompt. Today’s word is HURRY.

When Dad died in April of 2022, my brother Alan gave the eulogy, and one thing he mentioned was that he had never seen Dad hurry. There was an infinite number of things to be done around the farm, and Dad’s days had 24 hours like everyone else’s — but he just did one task and moved on to the next. I hadn’t thought of this before Alan mentioned it, but it was true: Dad never hurried, and he never hurried us. He was a patient man.

Dad in the loft on our farm in PEI. Maybe early 1960s but I’m not certain.

Jonathan doesn’t have the word “hurry” in his vocabulary either. If we’re out for a walk and he hears geese honking, everything has to wait while he stops, locates them in the sky if he can (he always can), and watches them until they disappear. Or supper might be on the table already, but if he happens to glance out the window and see a neighbour putting out their garbage for the next day, he has to wait and see if they’re putting out a green bin too, and whether they’ve got one recycling box or two this week. Priorities, right? (So we just say “Jon, we’re going ahead, come when you’re ready...”)

Jonathan was thrilled to see a flock of geese as we walked the K&P Trail last week. You can see them too, right?

For me, 99 times out of 100 “hurry” is associated with “worry.” If we don’t hurry we’ll be late and then what will happen … actually I don’t know what will happen, but whatever it is, it won’t be good! I definitely have the kind of mind that jumps to worst-case scenarios, which can lead to a kind of tunnel vision and loss of perspective.

And I think hurry can become a way of life for people, a treadmill they can’t get off. This is the way our consumer society is designed to work — we not only want products, we become products, and hustle and hurry become core values.

I think we would benefit from more of Dad’s patience and Jonathan’s priorities. I know I would. That composure that just sees the next right task to do and does it, without urgency — and that in-the-moment absorption in small things that bring joy. They both seem like healthier ways to live than hurry.