The power of slowing down 🐌

I’m normally one to opt for self-checkout at the end of a grocery trip, due to both a deep-seated need for control and my introverted tendency to avoid small talk with strangers. 

Today, however, I needed to use my organization’s credit card, which meant I needed to join a human-run register line to ensure the card’s tax exempt status was honored. Admittedly, this is something I would normally dread and feel irritated by, but today I chose to embrace the opportunity to slow down and observe the world around me during those extra moments. After scanning all of the open lanes to determine the shortest line, I hopped in line behind an elderly woman with a sparsely-packed cart. 

Almost immediately after joining the queue, the woman turned to me, smiled, and asked “Would you like to go ahead of me?”

My heart immediately melted at her offer, warmed by both her generosity and her astute observance of my hurried vibe. In response to this warmth, I found myself doing all of the following, all at once: 

1. Grinning at the woman.

2. Taking a deeeeeeeeeeep breath. 

3. Shaking my head. 

4. Saying “That’s so sweet of you to offer, but I’m in no hurry.” 

To this, the woman responded “Well, I have young ones like you in my life and I happen to know that you’re all in a hurry!” 

I laughed at her keen (albeit generalized) observation of the younger generations’ modus operandi, nodded my head in agreement, and heard myself saying “Mmmmmm yes, but not me – I am learning to slow down.” 

“Well, I can’t help but be slow,” she laughed. 

“More of us could stand to embrace our inner snail,” I said with a smile. 

The woman immediately nodded and responded in agreement. “That’s a nice thought, and very, very true.” 

We were in line together for another 10 minutes or so, as we waited for the cashier to navigate some pesky tech challenges, and for the bagger to meticulously package her items. During this period of time that would normally be spent with my nose in my email inbox, I chose to quietly observe the elderly woman’s interaction with the kind and cheerful cashier. 

“Do you need any stamps today?” the cashier asked. 

“Wow, thank you for asking - almost no cashiers ever ask, and I feel outdated even buying stamps anymore!” responded the woman. “I’m 91 years old, and it often feels like I can’t keep up with the world today,” she continued. 

The cashier, eyebrows raised, responded “Wow, you don’t look 91 at all!” to which I found myself echoing an expression of surprise. 

The woman chuckled and through her smile offered a bit of sage wisdom to all listening — “Well, I say just keep moving. And don’t get too frustrated when your kids don’t listen to you.” The cashier, the bagger, the (very hurried) woman behind me in line, and myself all laughed and looked at this woman with deep reverence for her spirit. 

This entire exchange moved me in a way I didn’t expect a short grocery store interaction could. One of my social work interns and I frequently discuss the importance of engaging the spirit of the snail in our work as social-ecological justice champions – we are learning to embrace the power of intention and spaciousness as we work to address oppressive power imbalances, insidious “othering,” habituated hyperconsumerism, and disconnected that are perpetuating harms against humans, other species, and the natural world. 

As we are working to shift our individual and systemic ways of being away from degeneration and towards deep connection, resilience, and regeneration, we are inspired by a truism offered by the brilliant Dr. Bayo Akomolafe - “The times are urgent; let us slow down.”

There is wisdom in the pace of the 91-year-old grocery store patron. 

There is wisdom in the pace of the hand-written letters that require postage stamps (i.e., snail mail) to make their way to our loved ones. 

There is wisdom in the pace of the snail. 

How can we embrace the wisdom and power of the snail in our work as regenerators?