What is your “natural pace?” That takes some discernment, doesn’t it? Not just to walk the pace of the person in front of you. Not to walk the pace that seems like a dignified labyrinth walking pace, but to listen for an inner rhythm, and to match your steps to that inner pace.
A few weeks after that training I was introducing an 8 year old to a labyrinth I had set up on our friends’ land. She was already familiar labyrinths because there was one at her Montessori school. So I asked her what she knew. She said you have to be very slow. I nodded my head, not wanting to undermine her teachers. “Yes, a lot of people do walk labyrinths slowly. I like to encourage people to walk at their own pace. Even if that’s running. She looked at me uncertainly, and then took off-- running the labyrinth. Her mom went next, running a circuit behind. I waited a beat and then entered the labyrinth at a brisk walk, not even trying to keep up. We all emerged from the labyrinth with big smiles on our faces.
When I was growing up my mom had on her wall a poster with the famous quote by Henry David Thoreau: “If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.” I grew up believing that it was okay to be “out of step” with society around you, to be an alternate or dissenting voice. It was only recently that I thought of this quote in a very literal and physical way. That there is an inner rhythm to our bodies, minds and hearts. That inner rhythm has its own wisdom and integrity.
I find it actually quite a relief to be able to do something at my own pace, but we rarely get the chance. When I was a little kid everyone wanted me to go faster. Apparently I was given to daydreaming and lollygagging. Also I had very short legs. I was constantly trying to keep up; in any group of kids on a walk or outing, I was almost always last, and sometimes despaired I would lose the group altogether.
In this culture there is an unquestioned assumption that faster is better. As a minister in Silicon Valley I believed that doing many things quickly and efficiently was the prime virtue. I rushed to keep up with work and with parenting. and noticed myself rushing my little son just as I was rushed as a child.
Then one day I got pulled over for speeding on the way to pick my son up from daycare. At first, of course, I felt defensive and guilty and angry and ashamed. Then I thought of an exercise Ram Dass mentioned in one of his talks- the practice of treating anyone you meet as if they were the Buddha. This officer - Buddha, was saying to me “slow down, you are going too fast. It’s not safe. In fact you are going so fast it’s against the law.” In a way it was a relief- what if I slowed down to the actual legal speed limit? Who could judge me for obeying the law?
It wasn’t until I started my training as a spiritual director that our teachers mentioned that going too fast can be an obstacle to contemplation. “We have to wait for our souls to catch up” they said. That’s certainly been my experience. When I’ve been moving fast and can finally slow down, it takes a while for all of me to “arrive.” I feel like a calmer, more centered, more competent person when I slow down to the pace that is right for me. There’s not one right speed for everyone- to be honest, even at these contemplative retreats, when we all rise from class together and walk down the hall to lunch it’s all I can do not to jog around the slower folks.
And yet when it comes to some of the mental and emotional aspects of our contemplative program, I felt I was constantly rushing to keep up. When a presenter says “set an intention” I think I am always the last one in the room to find my intention. It’s not unusual for a presenter to ask us to “allow a word or image to come to mind” and then move on to the next step while my mind is still a blank. More than once I’ve had to leave the room and go sit in silence away from the pressure of the now mounting instructions to allows something to come to mind at its own pace. Some parts of me are slow, some are quick. It takes my soul, it would seem, a long time to catch up.
Sometimes going slowly feels just right, and sometimes moving quickly feels just right. When I lived in Silicon Valley when I studied a vigorous form of yoga and learned to match one breath to each movement. I LOVED it. It was yoga that matched the brisk pace of my life, and taught me to breath into it. The movements were swift and challenging, but the breath was slow. Our teacher would often encourage us to do a sequence at our own pace “your breath, your body” he would say, encouraging us to match our movement to the natural pace of our breath. When I was younger and always in a hurry I used to get so impatient in the slow classes because I felt like I was missing something- we could be doing so much more! But at this moment in my life I appreciate both. I am lucky to live near a studio with lots of different yoga teachers, some fast, some slow. A vigorous quick class raises my heart rate and makes me feel confident and powerful. But I also appreciate a slow, thoughtful class where we focus on each little part of the poses, or maybe just lay down on the floor and relax.
As a species we have a tremendous range of speeds we can accomplish, and as individuals we each have a range of what is comfortable for us. But in our society we are rarely given a chance to find a pace that “feels natural.” We are rarely encouraged to know what pace works for you, and allow your body mind and heart to naturally settle into that pace. One part of the search for our true and wise Self can be listening for that drummer playing our own beat.
In school, at work or in traffic we are often required to ignore our natural rhythm, especially if it does “not keep pace with our companions.” Listening for and then trying to match our own internal rhythm is not something we get a lot of support to do in this culture. It is more common to ask our bodies, hearts and minds to meet targets and goals defined by some societal standard. It’s easy to make a schedule of what we “should” be able to accomplish in a day, how quickly we “should” run a mile, how long it “should” take for us to learn long division, or to grieve the loss of someone we care about. And when we can’t keep up with these expectations, we struggle. When external norms and expectations clash with the reality of my own biology, I try to let the body, heart and spirit lead, knowing there are consequences for ignoring that inner wisdom.
When the mind is racing ahead of body and soul, a simple breath practice can bring them together. Let’s take a moment now to just notice your breath, without changing it. Just notice the inhale and the exhale. If you feel it want to change, just let the breath change to its “natural rhythm.” There is not a single tempo for each person, it is constantly changing, so the practice is to listen carefully as often as we can, to notice the inner rhythm of body and spirit, to follow it when we can. When some task or cultural expectation asks us to keep up or slow down, we can notice how that affects us.
When we take on this kind of practice we affirm that each body has some natural rhythms that are right for you. And that going at your own pace has a value. That value is not only physical and emotional health, but a kind of integrity, a kind of integration and rightness that you feel when you are free to find your own rhythm. Getting to know your own rhythm is part of getting to know your true self. When we walk the labyrinth alone at our natural pace it grounds us in who we are, body mind and spirit.
If we walk the labyrinth with other people where everyone is following their natural pace we will sometimes need to pass, we will sometimes bunch up, we will sometimes need to step to the side and let someone pass us. When you walk the labyrinth as a group those who go last will have to wait their turn, and those who went first will have to wait till all the others are done. That’s community. We have folks who run on ahead to prepare the way, and folks who bring up the rear to make sure no one is left behind. Like a musical ensemble, we learn to listen not only to the beat of our own drummer, but to how that rhythm fits into the beats around us.
Noticing how our own rhythm fits into the larger whole is challenging sometimes, but it is also an important way of coming to know ourselves. It’s also a way to feel the pulse of the community, and to feel when it is out of sync, when it is leaving folks behind. This is one reason that being part of a congregation is a valuable spiritual practice.
Our society is going so fast right now that many folks cannot keep up. I’ve preached about the targets and quotas set by garment manufacturers, or at the Amazon warehouse, or set in the medical industry for physicians. I’ve preached about the impacts on workers who are physically unable to meet these quotas or the cost to their bodies when they do. Our society teaches us that “faster is better” but when I look at the world around me, I think there is plenty of evidence that this is simply not true. How often do we rush things into production without thorough testing and vetting, only later seeing the damage done to the ecosystem, or even to our own health? There are plenty of times to move fast. It’s perfectly legal to go 65 on the interstate in some places. We really want our first responders to move quickly when we need them. We certainly wish relief aid to Puerto Rico had moved more quickly. But when the next smartphone will be released? Is that worth asking bodies to sacrifice themselves?
Other living beings don’t grow and live at our pace. Think about the slow lives of trees, or moss. We need those beings for the health of our local ecosystems and our global climate, but we fail to take them into account in our industrial time tables. What if we thought of our work not as a race to the finish line, but more like a group walking the labyrinth, each at their own pace?
Every living being has their natural pace, and it changes over the course of a day, over the course of a lifetime. I encourage you to make this part of your own spiritual practice- moving at a pace, at a rhythm that synchronizes with your deepest self, and with the selves around you. Not only will this support you on your own journey, but each time you arrive at your own pace, each time you march to the beat of your drummer and encourage others to listen for their own, you help shape the rhythm of our lives together towards health, toward sustainability and towards justice. May you listen for your own natural rhythm, as it speeds up, as it slows down. May you have opportunities to follow that rhythm and to notice when it does not match the beat of your companions. May we honor the diversity of the rhythms all around us, younger and older, hearty and frail, fast as a humming bird and slow as a great oak. Let our practice be to listen for our own rhythm among many and the beauty of their coming together. 
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