Day 40 to Day 45: Why INFJs Like It Slow

These past few weeks have taught me to take it slow. It was starting to frazzle me a little, this whole writing project that I have to maintain with an utmost degree of authenticity, and I couldn't begin to write anything that didn't sound too trite or practiced. So I let go of the count and let the days just be days. True enough, when you are not pressured to think of having to produce or create, the habit revives itself. And here we are again.

 

40/100 → Perhaps the one thing I miss the most when there is no surf is that feeling of having someone listen. And listen completely, to every deep detail, dark or light, as the sea does. To listen with a love that softens and a silence that clarifies. It feels good to know that no matter what you do, you will be understood. You will be saved of explanations; you will be known. There's a subtle nostalgia to paddling out. It's the quiet but fulfilling feeling of meeting a long lost soulmate, a childhood friend, or parents you haven't seen in forever. It's an untouchable homecoming, a secret prayer, the solitary strength you need to face the world.
 

 

41/100 → Everyone has to have at least one happy thought. Do you have yours right now? Good. Let's sink in it together. Let's surrender into its safety and be held by a strength beyond this day. Are your eyes closed? Keep them that way. And slowly, allow yourself to be embraced by hope. You're going to make it. Deep down, you already have, and the happy thought is just a reminder of what you're really made of. So show them and show them good. You are not as hopeless as you think.
 

 

42/100 → When 6:50 p.m. looks like this in surf town and you can't tear your eyes away from the warm, golden, and melting liquid light, you can't help but wonder if someone or something up there was grinning down at you, and saying: "Yup, today was good."

 

43/100 → Last night, we walked to the far end of the beach and sat on the shoreline in the middle of absolute darkness. There was no way to tell where the sea ended and where it began. And then lightning struck and divided the sky, our dark canvas slashed, and it left a rumbling trail of thunder before finally leaving us as we were, engulfed in darkness.

I wish I had a picture of that. Instead, I remember this wave that sounded just like it, the thunderous roar the moment it broke. I couldn't believe water could ever sound like that. And that we went out to surf it and watch it break up close was even more unreal.
 

 

44/100INFJ. Nothing about me is difficult to understand if you knew these four letters.Yes, just these four. It's that easy-- and weirdly but sensibly-- also that complex.

 

45/100 → Today, we relearn the value of slowing down. We will take our time and practice how to pause. There is nothing more important now than doing absolutely nothing at all. Even the sea rests after each grand and giving season. So what have we been hurrying around for? Happiness never comes to those who never rest.

Photo by @inaestacio

Camille PilarComment