Chop Chop
| Chop chop (chŏp’chŏp’) |
adv. Informal
Right away; quickly.
Back when I spent my days chauffeuring willing minds to guitar, piano, soccer and ballet, I would sometimes get in a bit of a hurry to get out the door. To encourage a speedy exit by all, I would clap my hands together twice and say, “Chop, chop!” It was instinctual for me to say this peppy command combined with my mid-air hand clapping. It seemed happy. It was efficient and fun, right? While it was meant to motivate and rally, it would often stop my children right in their tracks so that they could give me their mouth-hanging-open “really?” look. They hated it. For some reason that only a therapist could unearth, this was a tough one for me to give up. I knew it was unpopular. I knew it didn’t work, and yet it would fly right out of my mouth and my hands would whip up before I could stop them. It had the same unpleasant effect, every time. I did eventually learn to let this rally cry go. My kids still tease me about it.
Still, I had the soul of a chopper. Eventually, I learned to satisfy the urge through the kinder, gentler, meditative sound of my knife hitting the chopping block when I prepared a meal for my family. I can provide nourishment instead of negativity. It’s easy for me to lose myself in the repetitive motion and the delicious aromas of fresh herbs and garden vegetables. A little music, a little wine….
I still have to resist the urge to go into “chop chop” mode. It’s not who I want to be. I know now that I can accomplish things and live a pretty fabulous life without marching in and directly the troops. In the end, the things that need to get done will get done. All is well.
Slowing Down
I have been traveling down the highway of life at breakneck speeds. I love going fast. There is something about having the top down and the music loud and moving right along. I imagine that it gets me to where I want to go faster. I know this isn’t true, because there are many times that I have passed someone, only to see them at the next red light.
I remember being with my Dad, who also loves to drive fast, and enjoying the thrill and rush of accelerating. Now I am starting to wonder: What is driving me to get “there” so quickly? Is it the belief that there is so much to do and so little time? Is it the way I was raised and have always done it? What have I been missing?
The piece that is missing when we are going so fast is mindfulness. When we are mindful, we can restore calm, find balance and open our heart. Anybody want any of that?
At the end of the day it is kind of like thinking I should have had a V-8, I should have slowed down and enjoyed the moment. That is all that we really have. I saw an author speak – her name is Patty Digh – and she wrote an amazing book called Life is a Verb. It is based on the question, What if you had 37 days to live? For me, the answer would be to slow down and savor the moment. That is where the juice is; that is where the joy is; that is where I want to be. You? Even if I do get somewhere faster, it is in a state that is less than desirable, that frantic state. I will a more calm, even pace. But I will still have the top down and the music loud: “Effortlessly,” by Sister Hazel — check it out.




