Pacing Ourselves on our Growth Journey

Written by Cole Putman

In my humble and limited opinion, some of the most important work I do as a therapist centers around aiding my clients in daring to notice their growth. Even more so- taking a moment to revel in it, allowing it to take up space - even for a moment - before we climb that next mountain or venture down into the next valley. I’ve found how easy it can be for each of us to acknowledge where we need to grow without acknowledging how we have grown. 

In a culture that not only says we must keep moving – but we “should” be moving faster, better, and in a more productive way - it is a radical act of self-love and self-regard to choose to pause and pace yourself on this growth journey. I struggle with this as I am sure most of us do, and I want to use this space to offer you some of the inspiration I’ve found that has helped me pace my own growth journey as well as my clients’. Enjoy the range: 

Shonda Rhimes, producer responsible for Grey’s Anatomy, delivers an incredible TedTalk that has greatly aided me in removing the pressure to grow and recognizing where I am. She introduces the idea of our fear to “step away from our campfire”, i.e. to play, to celebrate, to be present without fear of our fire going out. It has resonated with me for years, and when I find myself frustrated with “the work”, I remind myself: my campfire will still burn if I dare to give myself a break. I contend, much like Shonda, that what fuels our desire/capability/propensity to grow is directly correlated with our willingness to be present WHERE we are. 

Billy Joel’s classic, “Vienna”, offers a short of anthem for this pacing I speak of: “Slow down, you’re doing fine, you can’t be everything you want to be before your time.” 

Rupi Kaur articulates some of what I mean in an incredibly simple yet beautiful way: “I will never have this version of me again – let me slow down and be with her – always evolving.” 

Mary Oliver has been one of my greatest teachers on how to offer myself and my life true presence. Her poem, “I Worried”, conceptualizes how our minds simultaneously wonder and wander about growth. I’ll leave you with her words: 

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers flow in the right direction, will the Earth turn as it was taught, and if not how shall I correct it? 

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, can I do better? 

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows can do it and I am, well, hopeless. 

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it, am I going to get rheumatism, lockjaw, dementia? 

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing. And gave it up. And took my old body and went out into the morning, and sang.