The Urgency of Slowing Down
(( Reissued for dire times ))
A quick note before I launch in: there are many urgencies in this time, and some dramatic and terrible things happening in the world. And not all of us even have the luxury of much time. But we will serve no one if we can but don’t take even micro-moments to pause, listen, unwind our nervous systems, rest, renew. This is how we resource, stay centered in soul and grounded in the real, and remember to act from a place of care – responding rather than reacting.
I wrote the original “Urgency of Slowing Down” at the beginning of the pandemic, when many of us (with the privilege to, at least) were slowing down, rooting in place, and actually starting to listen to the whispers of the more-than-human world around us. In these past five years of writing, my voice might have changed a little, but my message hasn’t (lol, if you haven’t heard me repeat myself, you haven’t been here long), but the critical need for gentle pacing and deep listening has become even more pronounced as the world accelerates its onslaught of overshoot.
Below I will excerpt some of my favorite sections from the original piece…
“In an age of acceleration, nothing can be more exhilarating than going slow. And in an age of distraction, nothing is so luxurious as paying attention. And in an age of constant movement, nothing is so urgent as sitting still.” — Pico Iyer
Excerpts from the original April 2020 article:
Would you like to make yourself a cup of tea and plant yourself somewhere cozy – in a sunbeam, in your favorite chair – before reading further? For I’d love for you to sit with me for a spell, and I might ramble a bit…..
… .. . . .
Ahh, welcome back, and thank you for joining! I’m so grateful you’re willing to take the time. For that’s what I’d like to talk about today – time, and the pace we move through it. One simple thing, but with far-reaching repercussions…
Indeed, many of us are probably musing upon the world we would like to see emerge from this time [the pandemic] – be it the cleaner air and waters we’ve been seeing in the headlines, the uncommon acts of generosity we’ve seen emerge, a culture that allows us to take more time for those we love, more birdsong1… But if we truly seek change, we must first address one root issue.
What is this I speak of? What big change is needed? Ironically, the very change this crisis has already forced upon many of us – the need to slow down.
Slow down to simply be, here, now. …Nowhere to go. Slow down our frantic need for speed and achievement. …It really is okay to pause. Slow down our consumption. Slow down our production. …I understand, we have needs. Slow down our endless industry. …How might we simplify those needs? Slow down and appreciate the forgotten yet profound world right under our feet. …Yes, here. Slow down and notice the other-than-human beings as well. …Small creatures, new buds, worn stone… Slow down and let our nervous systems unwind, get quiet inside, investigate our motives, and clear the cobwebs from our hearts… …I know, that’s a lot.
Listen, I get it. This may not be easy.
For in slowing down, we have to face so much about the way we’ve been living.
We’ve distracted ourselves with speed, accomplishment, and the flash-dash of human-made novelties.
We’ve been told we have to earn, to achieve, or that we are otherwise worthless, lazy. Puritanical ideals run rampant in this so-called modern age.
So when we slow down, we may feel restless. Discomfited. Maybe even afraid. As we pull back the reins, we may wonder what we’re worth if we’re not moving, doing, striving… Who would we be if we didn’t have to prove ourselves? What different choices might we make?
This might be an interesting line of inquiry…
In slowing down there may also be sadness and grief. I hope there will be grief! Not only for the lives lost and sundered in these uncommon times, and our own losses big and small, but also the deep-seated ancient grief for our disconnection from nature, each other, and even ourselves. For the endangered and vanishing flora and fauna, and indeed for the destabilization of our home planet itself.
Perhaps this act of slowing down might also be a relief. Our nervous systems might now be unwinding from years of running on overdrive. We’ve been clambering so fast to keep up, never quite catching our breath, all the while maybe not even remembering where (or why) we’re going, going, going… Perhaps this is the first time we’ve had any sense of perspective in a long time.
Is it any wonder so few eyes are even open to the marvels beyond the human-made: to the also-human need for natural beauty, for the companionship of wild animals, for the sound of singing spring water, rustling leaves, birds calling at dawn, the hush that comes in the eve…
My mission, for many years now, has premised on one simple question: How can I help others fall. in. love. with this place? How can I inspire enchantment with life’s simple wonders, and help remind people that there’s an incredible world beyond the merely-human?
I return again to one simple answer: slowing down. For it is in slowing down that we might begin to see. To hear. And thereby to listen, to witness, and maybe even take part.
If we take time, precious time, and our eyes and ears are open, I’m pretty sure the world will begin speaking to us, drawing our attention toward her…
And from attention grows love. Many of us have an unprecedented opportunity to pay attention for the first time in a very long while. Perhaps when we were kids we used to notice the bugs more, or spend hours transfixed by a stream, or under a tree… It’s not always the big, sweeping majesties, but can be the itty-bitties that reawaken our senses and return our sense of wonder.
This place, our home, is a marvel! And when we remember that we are actually a part of the more-than-human world, when we take our place back in the family-of-all-things, even amidst nature’s gorgeous and frightening complexity, we will become less lonesome, less addicted to all our human accoutrements, and more satisfied with much-needed simplicity.
If we make a practice to reconnect in an intimate, personal, daily way – stepping outside barefoot, listening to the wind, touching the dirt – we will likely make different lifestyle choices, and we will be driven to do our part to advocate for deep-rooted and systemic changes. The other-than-human-world needs more allies – I hope you will join me!
Personally, I would like to see a new sort of human emerge from this time. For myself, I aim to walk even more squarely in right reciprocal relation with this planet and these lands I live on (📍currently Ute, Cheyenne, and Arapahoe traditional lands). I would like to continue learning more sustainable skillsets: how can I grow and raise and forage more of my own food and medicines, how can the dwellings I use or build live in harmony with the land they stand on, what are the resources I bring into my home and where did they come from, what hands crafted them, from what? My eyes are awakened to the impact we modern humans have when we satisfy our “needs,” and I question those needs, and seek alternatives.
For I would like to be good kin to the other beings on this planet – to the creatures that also need land to roam and rest, to the forests who talk to each other and whose roots must live in strong, unbroken webs.
For these are my friends. I am not only human, but I am animal too, and I am part of this web.
So let’s be courageous, my friends! Let’s keep our hearts open in these times. Allow our demons to sit by our sides. Find the tender selves we left behind in the rush for more, better, faster… Take time.
“The world is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.”
— Bertrand Russell
“Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.”
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
For those of you in or near the Boulder area, we’ll have a chance to put some of the above into practice with our first Land Listening Circle this Sunday from 5–8pm. More info and RSVP here.
Thanks for taking the time today, and stay tuned for some new writing…soon. I’ve been moving slow on the writing front while I instead listen to the birds, smell all the blossoms, snack on trailside greens and berries, and watch springtime and now summer recklessly (beautifully!) unfold in the glimmering dance of rain and sun, even amidst a world gone haywire.
May this reminder be medicine: slow down, unplug, and remember that this world too – the wild and wholesome one – still walks right alongside us.
How are you taking time, listening, savoring, coming home??
I love you ♡
p.s. If you’ve enjoyed the above, you may enjoy the original article on my website, which also includes a bullet list of slow-down prompts*, such as: crafts and beauty-making, earth tending, wandering rather than walking, and the age-old reminders to sleep well and take media fasts. *(Heck, if you want prompts, there’s also my Rewilding Field Guide, which you can get by becoming a paid subscriber here, for purchase, or even for free at the bottom of my website…)
It should be noted that the birds didn’t get louder when the lockdowns happened. Rather, we got quieter, and simply noticed them more. The magic of paying attention. (Check out the linked article for more, including how this human quiet might help the birds and other creatures live healthier lives, as well as other incredible anecdotes and findings from the time of quiet at the beginning of the pandemic.)