Slug The Snail - A Story About Slowing Down

Hello beautiful soul.

Thank you so much for being here with me.

Welcome to the first in a series of gentle nurturing stories for the heavy heart.

A little lift,

A little lightness,

A little inspiration and care.

This story is called Slug the Snail,

Who was very bad at slowing down.

And it's a tale of speedy thoughts,

Sideways wobbles and the sacred art of stillness.

Once in a mossy meadow where dreams were grown like flowers,

Lived a little snail named Slug.

Now Slug was a snail,

Yes,

But he was a very unsnaily snail.

He didn't like going slow.

He didn't like stopping to smell the dandelions.

He didn't like napping on a leaf umbrella like the other snails.

Nope.

Slug wanted to go.

I've got things to do,

He would say,

Zooming,

Or rather wiggling a little faster than usual across the garden path.

I have quests,

Missions,

Ideas that need activating.

He kept a to-do list under his shell.

He had dreams of becoming the first snail to travel in a straight line.

He never did manage it,

But he did keep trying.

The other snails were kind but concerned.

Maybe you could rest for a bit,

One offered.

Resting is for compost,

Slug said,

Zipping towards a mushroom he hadn't visited yet.

Until one day,

Slug wiggled so hard and so fast and with such enthusiasm that he spiralled right into a leaf puddle and got very,

Very stuck.

He tried to squirm and wriggle.

He even tried to activate emergency launch mode,

But nothing worked.

And so,

For the very first time in his snaily life,

Slug had to stop.

At first,

He was furious.

This is a trap,

He declared.

Stillness is a trick.

But then,

He started to notice the sound of rain and the glow of the moss and the smell of nearby soup.

He sighed,

And a frog sitting nearby said to him,

Ah,

There it is.

The sacred sigh of the over-wiggled.

Slug blinked.

It's okay,

Said the frog.

Some of us only learn stillness when we're too tired to argue with it.

And so,

They sat together in silence for seven whole minutes,

Which is about 12 years in snail time.

And in that silence,

Slug began to feel himself again.

Not the go,

Go,

Go,

Quick version,

But the soft,

Sweet squish at the center of his being.

He stayed there for a while,

Not because he had to,

But because it felt good.

So now,

If you ever see a little snail who goes a little bit too fast,

Wiggling with urgency,

Who thinks that joy or success only come from doing things,

You might just be meeting Slug.

And if you sit quietly,

He might sit with you too.

Because even the fastest snail sometimes just needs to stop and remember how to feel soft again.

You