Permission to Slow Down

Treadwell Ditch Trail – June 2, 2025

The clouds hang thick overhead, but, at least for now, we are spared the rain. On weeks like this, we take an afternoon without rain as if the sun were shining. Still, I find myself wondering—why is it so hard to get outside on days like this? How do we harness the energy of the sun on a day, or a week, or a month that feels shrouded in gloom?

As I step onto the trail and into the forest, a calm stillness wraps around me. I can breathe! The air is crisp in my nostrils, delightful as it fills my lungs. The air itself feels healing. Soon, my awareness begins to stretch outward. Leaves sway gently with the kiss of a breeze. A varied thrush calls from somewhere above, its song like a flute echoing through the trees. Every direction I turn, I see vivid color - the many hues of green that make up the forest. The stream trickles nearby, weaving through lush ferns and skunk cabbage, seemingly soaking up every drop of the recent rains. 

Maybe the clouds are an invitation to slow down. Even on the trail, I notice my pace is slower than usual—a gentle stroll rather than a determined hike. I’ve thought before how the urge to slow down often shows up as wanting to stay inside, to be still. But that stillness doesn’t always meet the need I’m longing for.

What if we looked to the clouds the way we look to the sun—not for energy, but for rest? Maybe we need the dim light of the clouds to balance the vibrance of the sun.

More often than not, I feel refreshed after a walk in the forest, even when it’s hard to leave the house. Can you relate? What helps you get over your own mental barriers? 

This piece reflects the lived experiences and written reflections of the author. AI was used for editorial support to help shape the story’s flow.