Go Slow, and You Will Go Far
On the high trails, the one who rushes is the one who falls, or turns back sick, or does not come back at all. The mountain does not reward the fast. We take small, steady steps — slow enough that you could take them all day — and we arrive, while the strong young climber who sprinted ahead is sitting on a rock with his head in his hands. Bistaari, bistaari, we say. Slowly, slowly.
Your world worships speed. It rushes at work, rushes through meals, rushes through years, and it wears people out and fills them with a low humming fear. But almost nothing that matters is won by sprinting. It is won by the steady step, taken again and again, long after the fast ones have stopped.

