The gifts of slowing down | Daybreak Note #209 | Monday, August 16, 2021
Rushing carries so many perils and adds a layer of expensive fixes. Slowing down carries so many gifts and, in the end, hands us back extra time.
Good morning, dear,
We are deep in August summer here in the Hudson Valley. School is hovering around the corner. The air oscillates between cool evening breezes and warm sun-streaked days, wrapping a blanket of humidity around bare legs and sticky necks. Teeny bugs circle our faces, landing in the most irritating of spots: the eye, the nose, the mouth. At night, the crickets play their summer songs on their wings, a symphony of insect violins across the neighborhood.
It’s a great month to slow down. To take your pace and your hurry down another notch.
This pandemic has been, and continues to be, riff with terrible illness and confusion. One of the rare silver linings is that it caused a whole lot of us to slow down. For those who weren’t in hospitals, caring for COVID patients, or in another job deemed essential (and thank you, thank you, if you were), the hectic daily schedule screeched to a halt. And I suspect many of us still exist in that different tempo, even as the world continues to adjust.
Slowing down has so many advantages that aren’t as obvious as its counterpart, rush, rush, rushing, which seems so helpful. Rushing can appear to be the only way forward. But it’s deceptive.
When we rush, we risk creating unexpected accidents and, thus, time detours. I hurry around the kitchen and, shoot, there goes a bowl tumbling down from the cabinet, smashing on the floor, and adding another 15 minutes of gingerly picking up shards, shooing the curious and barefoot son away, sweeping the floor, mopping the teeny bits.
When we rush, we miss the moment. Our brain is already on to the next thing, calculating what else has to be done.
When we rush, we forget things. Sometimes simple things. Critical items. The very point of the errand!
When we rush, we end up setting up our thoughts for cranky feelings. I’m never going to get this done now. I can’t believe they aren’t moving faster. Really, there’s construction here, really? Cranky feelings can spill over into snippy words. Ugh. And now the rushing has created an necessary layer of apology and healing.
When we rush, and try to stuff too much into a box of time, we give up the choice of what actually happens or gets done. We leave the fate of our day to other people. I often start the day with an enormous, optimistic list of tasks. And then, when inevitable interruptions and surprises occur, I have no buffer to accommodate them. Some of my to-do list (now a wish list) falls apart. The actual items that get done end up being a matter of first come, first served, rather than the priority of the day.
I’m finally learning to leave extra space in my day and not plan it to the tip-top of the schedule. If we deliberately pick a small list of what we really want to happen today (and maybe that includes a walk and sitting down for lunch, those under-appreciated “breaks” that keep us healthier and happier), then surprises can’t overtake our intentions. The list, with the most important parts, is still doable. We’ve slowed down enough to think through what we most want to happen today, instead of letting our day fall to chance.
As Annie Dillard writes, “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”
When we slow down, we literally calm ourselves. We allow our heart rate to fall, our movements to be more meditative than harried.
When we slow down, we leave space for noticing — the way the light falls, the look on their face, the sound of the crickets, the young buck with antlers in the neighbor’s yard, the gorgeous flowering tree, the one thing we almost forgot.
When we slow down, space often seems more expansive. A leisurely, attentive 20 minutes with a friend stretches and echoes in our minds more clearly than a rushed lunch hour.
When we slow down, we create room for others. They find openings to confide, to tell you something new, to share something they have been carrying: a story, a worry, a hope, a dream.
When we slow down, we turn on the option of enjoying our day. We are steady enough to laugh, to marvel, to sympathize, to listen.
When we slow down, we pay more attention. We end up building trust, which speeds everything up in the future.
And there is the irony of it all: Rushing takes longer. Slowing down gives us time, again and again.
I hope you have a wonderfully slow week ahead.
With love,
Brianne