The turtles and me

[Rene Syler]

I have a group of about 20 turtles that hang out with me at Good Enough Mother World Headquarters. They’re mostly silent; I take that back, they’re ALWAYS silent because they are fake! But their purpose is very real.

See, I collect them, like I do my crosses and clocks and other stuff around the house but these guys, along with the crosses, have special meaning. See they remind me that slow and steady wins the race.

We all remember the tale of the Tortoise and the Hare. I was very fond of that one because I was the hare, in all that I did. I walked fast, talked fast, ate fast, made decisions fast, sometimes without all the pertinent information. I jumped to conclusions, cut off friends who made me mad and sometimes didn’t listen.

My TV career moved fast too and I enjoyed the pace. I made move after move but when I finally got to what I thought was the top, I hit a roadblock. It was not the first in my career but it was frustrating nonetheless. It was then I started collecting the turtles.

As frustrating as the roadblock was it wasn’t as completely terrifying or soul crushing or self esteem shattering as the wrecking ball that smashed into my life after that.

Being fired from my job, just weeks from my mastectomy was horrifying and I wanted to run some more. I wanted to flee from the pain that permeated every nook and cranny of my life at that time. I wanted to get past this time and on to the next thing.

But the turtles reminded me then as they do now that sometimes there are great things along the journey, if you stop long enough to take them in. Over the last two years of my life, I have met some wonderful people; people that I might not have slowed down long enough to learn their names had it not been for this new pace my life has taken. I got a chance to laugh more with my kids; I was always working before and had become quite the Crabby Appleton. I had a chance to just relax in general, not operate with the Blackberry in hand, watch in the other.

But there is the Hare in me, always trying to break free and run. That part that is dying for something big to take off and not stop until it hits the stratosphere. The part that is tired of the grunt work and ready for the glamor.

It is about then the turtles call me and remind me all things in time. Slow and steady, with your head down, focused on your own path, moving toward the finish line with plodding, deliberate steps without regard for what is happening around you. And I take a deep breath, and get back to work.

Thanks, turtles.