Dr Airdre Grant returns to people watching, pondering human behaviour, and the meaning of life.

I took a lesson from a young woman recently. A fresh-faced, smooth-skinned woman not yet 20 and on the verge of stepping into the tricky – oh so tricky – world of adulthood came to stay with me.

She came for a few nights as her accommodation had become unsafe, with drunken young men carousing at night and generally doing what drunken young people do. Despite this, she was unhurried and composed. I watched her slowly unpack, cook with grace, and then rest. She was measured, unruffled in her manner. She didn’t dwell on the recent upset in her life; instead, she calmly went about reorganising herself.

It gave me pause. I suddenly realised I had been rushing all through my life. For years I had been giving myself lists of tasks, goals – things I felt I needed or ought to do. And what happened when I finished a list? I made another one. This young woman asked, “Shall I clean the kitchen?” And then she did.

It startled me to realise that I have always approached life as something To Be Done – to be tackled and completed in the most efficient and rapid way possible. I know about deadlines, of course, but this was a deeper, more subtle approach to life in general. She finished cleaning, then sat down and took a break. She seemed to have no internal compulsion to race through things. She just calmly went about her day.

Watching her made me sharply aware of how much I have hurried through life. How being efficient had gained a status in my psyche. Something as simple as hanging out the washing had to be done quickly and efficiently. I thought, Why have I been in such a hurry? Did hurrying make any difference? Was setting goals burdensome?

Life rolled on, things happened, and then other things happened – and the amount of speed or efficiency I put into it… well, I’m not sure it made a difference.

Here was an unhurried woman. She was in that golden, liminal time on the edge of adulthood, when life is full of possibility. I saw her steadiness. It was a good lesson, one that I appear to have learned late. There’s no hurry – life will meet you regardless.

I went out into the garden. It would be time soon to do the winter plantings. It would be hard to shrug off a lifetime of must/should/ need, but I would try. I would begin by having a cup of tea, trusting that all would be well and all manner of things would be well. I resolved to sit, listen to the earth, watch the sky and simply be (another goal?). It might be hard to change that hurrying pattern, but sitting under the pepper tree and thinking about seedlings would be a good start.

I looked up. Two tawny frogmouths perched in stillness high above. They weren’t in a hurry. I didn’t need to make this moment mean anything. I could sit and drink my tea. The garden, the birds and the tree continued to just be.