I just learned that one man finished the Boston Marathon at 5am Tuesday morning. He was the last one to cross the finish line. Maikel Melamed is from Venezuela and has severe muscular dystrophy. In watching video clips online of his crossing the finish line in the dark hours of early Tuesday morning, I was struck by Maikel’s sheer tenacity to finish but also by the group of walkers who stayed with him and walked painstakingly slowly alongside him. Step by step, they stayed clustered close to him and crossed the finish line with him. This gesture of support and solidarity with Maikel’s resolve to finish the Boston Marathon had me thinking about all the ways in which I get to slow down and walk with another at Emmanuel. I believe that many of my learning experiences have been shaped by times where the therapeutic presence needed in the moment necessitated slowing down.

At prison on Monday nights we gather in a circle at the beginning at take a few breaths together. These few breaths, although a subtle gesture, completely shift the mood in the room. There is often a tangible shift toward slowing down and quieting that comes out of the conscious breathing that we engage in. The energy tempo might speed up directly following this practice, but for those few moments of breath, it is as if time stands still. For me, I can experience a total connection with the others in the circle during that time, albeit brief.

I can recall a time at Common Art when I was working alongside a community member in the kitchen and his seemingly dilatory efforts resulted in a profound learning moment for me. We were peeling oranges and placing them in a mandala formation on a plate. Although we were ultimately trying to get the food out as quickly as possible to the other hungry members of the community I noticed that this particular community member was moving very slowly and deliberately in his efforts. My patience was wearing a little thin but instead of hurrying him along, I took a breath and attempted to mirror his tempo. I also went slowly at the task of peeling and placing the tender slices on the round plate. We exchanged very few words during that time but it felt to me that a lot was exchanged because I was able to meet him just where he was and validate his efforts.

One of my favorite times in my week is on Thursdays when Bekah, Jessi, and I engage in peer supervision. We have fine-tuned a structure in which we can discuss relevant issues that have risen in the past week and provide one another with the feedback and support that we are each craving. We’ve developed an opening ritual for this time that involves taking a moment to look into the eyes of each of the other two present. Through this practice we are slowing down and offering one another a non-verbal affirmation. We are also each offering ourselves to the space and the process. It is a gesture of “I am here and I see that you are also here.” I imagine that Maikel Melamed’s supporters were offering a similar message through their slow and steady footsteps as they walked alongside him through the early morning hours toward the finish line. Often I find that the joy of life comes through those that I get to travel with as much as it comes with arriving at my destination.

— Liana Johannaber