|Posted by firstname.lastname@example.org on August 29, 2014 at 9:50 AM|
I don't know where you live, but here in Ontario, Canada, we can feel the chilled hint of autumn in the evening breeze. Yes, I know it's still August, but the seasons around here taunt and tease that they are coming long before they arrive. That's part of the joy of being Canadian.
Parents and children are bustling about preparing to return to school. To start fresh. A new year.
It is time for me to start new, too.
Work for me had become too hectic. I was on a fast train that had picked up speed and was barrelling relentlessly down the track. Without even realizing it, the train had gained momentum and run away, accelerating to a speed that was unstoppable. Unnoticed, extra box cars had latched themselves to the train propelling it at a faster and faster pace. Familiar faces on the station platforms flashed by as it raced on. It was a runaway train, speeding down the track, passing stations without braking. Too fast to slow down. The train clattered down the track faster and faster. The wheels clicked and clacked, percussing an accelerated beat, drowning out the train's warning horns that it is charging through. The scenery blurred and whizzed by the windows. I held on tight for the ride, fearing that the train was uncontrollably racing toward an inevitable collision with an unforgiving brick wall, until my insides finally screamed out, “STOP THE TRAIN!”
The train stopped and there was silence.
I stepped off.
“All aboard!” the conductor shouted. I stayed put. I needed to take a break from the rails. I needed to travel at a much slower pace. I decided to catch a later train. A much later train.
The doors closed, the air brakes burst their release and the train lurched forward. It began to slowly chug down the track to its new destination. I waved good-bye to the other passengers as I watched the train roll away.
Then I walked home.
In the days and weeks following my stop, I pondered what would be next. As the echos of the clanging, honking racket of the train ride faded into a memory, perspective seeped in.
The scenery snapped into focus. I decided to take time to look at everything close to me, listen to it, experience it, write about it, teach it and no longer let it whiz on by.
I'm rebuilding how I travel so that I can enjoy the journey.
It's my season for renewal.