It seems like just about everyone I’ve talked to lately has commented about the accelerated pace of their lives.
I hear it in ubiquitous phrases, like, “I’ve just been so busy, flat out, swamped, etc.”
I feel it in the genuine regret I experience when I have to say no to something I want to do or find myself postponing being with a friend or colleague whose company I enjoy because I’m booked solid.
Although it’s comforting to know I’m not alone, it’s also alarming to realize that the goal of living a more balanced rhythm is eluding so many of us.
Could over-scheduling be like global warming, sneaking up on us by degrees and threatening our well-being?
Fortunately, last October, after a period of trying to normalize my overextendedness resulted in failure, I became painfully aware that I was driving myself too hard.
Living in an age that upholds the myth that technological advancements expand our capacity to do more with less time—somebody show me an app for sleep or leisure—it’s no wonder we’ve become humans constantly doing, instead of humans seeking to become whole.
I finally stopped long enough to face the fact that I was in a pattern of physical, mental and spiritual depletion and it wasn’t a passing blip on the radar screen.
A hectic summer had become an event-filled fall, and I was heading into the stress of the holidays without any respite from the press of doing more than was reasonable for one person to accomplish.
Then, just as I was beginning to feel very much like a race car propelling myself around a dangerous track, unsure if I had enough gas to make it to the finish line, I brought a Prius.
ZEN CAR
It’s telling that I owned the new car for almost two weeks before I had enough space on my calendar to set up a time for my husband show me the difference between driving a hybrid and gas only vehicle.
The first thing I noticed was that it was so quiet. The sense of gliding noiselessly out of the driveway and coasting down inclines was calming, but the best part was when I started to understand the computer display on the dashboard which shows fuel consumption and battery use as you drive.
I discovered that when you apply the brake the battery recharges!
There it was, right in front of me, a fundamental truth—slowing down renews your energy. The lesson alone seemed almost worth the price of the car.
But there was more. The display clearly showed that you use less energy by accelerating gradually to full speed.
Did this mean that I could be more efficient by easing into even the most demanding day, starting with simple tasks, like filing the client folders from the day before or making a few notes related to upcoming appointments? For a while, I’ve observed that writing projects invariably go better when I allow myself to start out playing with a few thoughts before I get into that “overdrive,” have-to-get-it done mental state.
Under pressure, it may sometimes be necessary to take a “heavy-footed” approach, but when I think about the days which are both productive and enjoyable, I can see that they are times I have built momentum slowly.
There’s still one more lesson I learned from the hybrid. When I’m cruising, in order to maintain a certain speed, I don’t have to press down on the accelerator as hard or as often as I think.
The same principle applies to life as well—I can ease up and still keep going forward.
PEOPLE ARE HYBRIDS, TOO
How easy it is to get caught up in treating ourselves as if we were some kind of machine. Just fill us up with enough food, water, caffeine, etc. and we will keeping chugging along.
Living in an age that upholds the myth that technological advancements expand our capacity to do more with less time—somebody show me an app for sleep or leisure—it’s no wonder we’ve become humans constantly doing, instead of humans seeking to become whole.
Yes, our bodies will respond to being tanked up with a power bar or a caffeine charged drink or a latte, but the parts of us that operate on spiritual energy—our creativity, empathy, enlightenment—don’t work that way. They will keep running down, like a battery.
We’re not gas driven. We’re hybrids.
Gerry Gallagher Reply:
May 13th, 2011 at 11:35 AM
And I thought only guys told car stories!@Molly Eldridge,
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