During the past two months, I’ve experienced one of the busiest times of my life. Coordinating an overseas move to repatriate to Australia after sixteen years in Europe, and continuing to work while establishing new routines to live alternately in two countries have required a massive to-do list which I dubbed the Twilight Zone.
Despite these challenges being overlaid with excitement, there have been moments of stress. Often, there has been a sense of living in limbo: shuffling from one temporary accommodation to the next, living out of suitcases, forgetting the location of everyday items, being nine time zones away from family and friends. Tasks are ticked off the to-do list, hours flit by too quickly, major decisions are required constantly, and I fall into bed exhausted at the end of each day.
I’ve had moments of wishing time could slow down so I could fit more in. But I know that, even if this was possible, it wouldn’t ease the busyness or stress.
In his 2004 book, In Praise of Slow, Canadian journalist and author Carl Honoré described the slow movement as “doing everything as well as possible, instead of as fast as possible … it’s about quality over quantity in everything from work to food to parenting.”
I’ve taken Honoré’s suggestions to heart. The biggest challenge with adopting elements of the slow movement is finding the right balance. Prioritising my Twilight Zone list has encouraged me to adjust my expectations (and those of others), assess with clarity and without emotion, and adopt the attitude of doing the best I can.
Despite the busyness, I have found time to unwind with friends and family, relax alone in the garden, visit an exhibition and lose myself within a book. I’ve reminded myself that my to-do list will still exist when I awake the next morning. Some tasks are awarded a lesser priority and will be dealt with later or scratched from the list (such as my Musings for August). This is the beginning of a new adventure, I tell myself. Enjoy the process. Just breathe. Relish the peaceful times, the shared laughter with loved ones, a long weekend in London, watching a robin splash in our mosaic birdbath, an eleventh-hour meal with dear friends.
Honoré wrote that “when we are calm, unhurried and free from stress and distraction, the brain slips into a richer, more nuanced mode of thought.”
As a fiction writer, I delve deeply into my characters’ minds to understand their joys and fears, and work hard to create a sense of place for them to exist within a narrative. I cannot do this quickly. Sentences emerge slowly, after much reflection and editing. At this slower pace, my writing is clearer, more vibrant, and flows more smoothly.
I try to find at least thirty minutes somewhere in my day, no matter how many issues require my attention, to relax and read fiction. I love literature. I love the myriad ways in which words are arranged to create ideas and emotions. Reading is one of the ways I recharge my inner self, alleviate stress, clear my mind of the everyday, and activate my brain into new ways of thinking and feeling.
During my recent focus on slower living, I’ve enjoyed watching the progress of two friends on social media as they make their way slowly around Australia. Steven and Christine have put their jobs on hold and their household goods in storage, bought a caravan, and gone on the road to explore Australia for a year. Their photo captions are delightfully concise, often simple lists of place names, and their photos are inspirational, capturing the wonder of nature and humankind’s mark upon the landscape. Their travelogue demonstrates the pleasure of slowing down to enjoy life, their thankfulness of having the privilege to do this, the joy of approaching each day with a sense of adventure.
Norwegian philosopher, Guttorm Fløistad, declared that the slow movement initiative embraces the fact that “our basic needs never change. The need to be seen and appreciated … the need to belong. The need for nearness and care, and for a little love. This is given only through slowness in human relations. In order to master changes, we have to recover slowness, reflection and togetherness. There we will find real renewal.”
Time doesn’t need to slow. Instead, I’m going to slow down. Breathe. Focus. Be.
[photo credit: Instagram @ christinemogg]