My beloved worn boots are grounded on a Turkish rug, surrounded by grasscloth wallpaper and antler sconces. I’m unhurried here in Wyoming. I believe in being vulnerable and so I share with you this vision of a life unhurried.

Yes, life is busy, hectic, and often methodical… day in and day out. What the West teaches me is that the seasons will inevitably come and go in their own timing.

The bison and elk grazing in the brown and green pastures. The moose resting casually in sagebrush. The rams and sheep slowly carrying on above the rocky cliffs. The wolves, somewhere hidden, watching all creation below.

They all instinctively follow the way of the land. The moon and stars guide them. As I watch, my soul feels calm… unhurried.

The wind moves through my untethered hair. My eyes squint in the bright sun, with no thought of the lines around my eyes or on my face. No sense of rush.

The dried knapweed bends in the breeze… softened by the contrast of the snow- capped Tetons standing brave in the background.

We live life hurried.

It’s not just the climbing of corporate ladders. It’s not just the pursuit of success or achievement. Not even hustle culture.

It’s an undercurrent in the atmosphere… magnified by technology… that rushes us. It’s the constant pull of validation… think of social media. It’s what happens when we climb those ladders and we don’t stop to feel the breeze on our faces. To notice the sunrise and sunset. Waking up to the sound of birds in the cool morning, dew resting on blades of grass and budding tress.

This is the quiet sadness of a hurried world.

Little by little, moment by moment, it captures our soul and blinds our purpose.

It tells us it’s not necessary to gather around the dinner table. Not necessary to date your spouse. That we should be too tired… with nothing left to give.

It convinces us children can stay on screens… never barefoot in the yard, never feeling the afternoon sun when school lets out.

A hurried world doesn’t like to be alone. Doesn’t like stillness. We are taught to live for views, accolades, instant gratification.

But I’m learning to let the seasons teach me… without resistance.

Because when we live hurried, we miss the life meant for us. 
The life we ache for.

Live it. Taste it.
Feel it.

With Love,
Erica
Salty Blonde Living