Peeling a clementine

At the market on Saturday, I bought a bag of clementines. I'm not sure why, since they don't often go over that well and I usually have to throw away some of them. Go figure.

Lately I've noticed that we're pretty much always in a rush. We get up in the morning and rush to get ready. We rush through morning drop off. Then I rush up the highway to work and rush into the building to get to my desk before 7am as my life at work is ruled by Webclock. Then I rush through work so the team can meet its goal and the regulators will be happy. Then I rush back to pick up Jupiter. I can't rush to get her home. She hates transitions. So by the time we get home we rush to get dinner and do our homework and rush to choose clothes for the next day (in an effort to rush less in the morning) and rush to get to bed so we have time to read before bed.

I'm sick of rushing. Not enough hours in the day and all that.

Yesterday, during my web clock enforced lunch break, I sat outside and ate some cottage cheese. Then, I found myself peeling the clementine.

It dawned on me that I was completely focused on nothing else but peeling the clementine slowly and deliberately. Taking the time to peel off all the little strings of pith that don't taste nearly as good as the clementine flesh. Breaking apart all the little sections of clementine and savoring each of them individually.

It was such a foreign experience I had to ponder it.

Of course, then my lunch ended and I had to go back in to my desk and rush some more. But for that five minutes, I managed to slow down.

I wonder if I can find other ways to build it into the day.