Signs, snails, deliverables

An ode to overlooked organisms and paths unseen.

"Slow and steady wins the race," or so the age-old adage goes. A snail, in its unclaimed superiority, knows that there isn't one. It remains unbothered, as other creatures pass it by. Out of all the things to be intimidated by, speed isn't one of them. Generally speaking, it exists unfazed by the surrounding world. In chaos and peace, it stays the course.

They don't lack awareness of danger, but move with confidence carrying home over their shoulder. It isn't naiveness, but rather a choice to live unbound from fear. Come what may--it'll seek protection inside itself and employ the available resources. What else is there? To do and be our best given what we've got.

Snails aren't untouchable, but I imagine they don't feel lessened by their vulnerabilities. Instead, they use them to their advantage. They glide through the world, guided by an internal compass. It doesn't see roadwork and think its being inconvenienced by a detour--it just keeps going as if it were the intended way all along. This must be the path, it assumes.

These remarkable little gastropods may go unnoticed, but don't seem to mind. Perceived or not, it sticks--by the glisten in its glue, to the job at-hand.

Location dependent, the presence or absence of snails is a signal. It gleams vitality or warns of decay. To a snail, death is hardly an ending, but an alchemical opportunity to be of service. What rots becomes renewed and balance, restored.

The tendency to move with urgency, is one I know all too well. Throughout childhood, my dad saw the frustration I'd get when I'd make too many mistakes by moving too quickly. The result being that I'd have to start over and the process would take twice as long. "You'll always go faster if you slow down first," he'd say.

The best advice is usually the simplest. So simple, that it passes us by. Our problem feels complex so we think the solution must be too. Funny how the brain works, ain't it?

Perhaps the need for speed comes from a society that rewards visible action. Acceleration, then applause. How can one know that we're working if they can't see it? Or maybe its driven by the fear of being called lazy, directionless, or unambitious.

I resent this instinct although I'm not immune to it. On the days spent concerned with speed and when time feels like a test, I stumble. But I know that my best work is done in private, without a witness, and at a pace in tune with time, not against it.

So the next time you see a snail or a person, and you wonder what they're doing, where they're going, and how they got here...resolve yourself to know that they are meeting the moment.

The reward of bearing your own clock isn't a prize--it's the glisten in the glide.