Mountains suck, that’s what I’ve learned.
The summer of my Sophomore year of high school, I ventured with my family to a random hill in the state of Jalisco, in western Mexico. After lunch, some of my cousins decided to go for a walk up a hill behind the house. Now, when I say hill I really mean small mountain–ish things that loomed over the landscape like a tyrannical rubber ducky (it was covered in yellow brush, ok?). On the way down, I refused to slow my walk and let gravity get a hold of me. Before I knew it, the sky was beneath me…or was it to my left? Right? Center?
As I was rolling down this proverbial rubber ducky mountain-hill, I was learning a powerful lesson: some things are better off when done slowly. Also, our planet is hard.
But all seriousness aside, stop and really think about the last time you didn’t try to circumvent something. We’re lazy. But many things are often easier done when done right. Cooking, for example, is more than just the arbitrary chucking-in of things into a pan. It’s the combination of ingredients at a specific time in a specific order so that the flavors and attributes of the ingredients are coaxed out. It involves patience, time and a good sense of when to slow down and speed up.
Sure, it takes more brain power to decide when to do what at what speed and when to not do what at whatever speed we previously chose to forget. But think for a minute about why well-cooked meals are expensive: they take time and conscious thought. Blasting through them like an enraged swan after a gang of teenage boys who tried to catch it won’t cut it.
All it takes is a conscious effort to think about what we do and why we do it, and before long we’ll be safe from the threat of falling off of rubber-ducky mountains and into a world where we consistently make masterpieces.