Hurry Slowly

Recently, a college student I know voiced frustration at not having found his passion yet. He was impatient to have it figured out so he could set a course of study and complete it. This lack of a specific, identified outcome in the future was causing him distress. Over the course of our conversation, he expressed incredible curiosity about many ideas and topics, but, sadly, the joy of the exploration of those ideas, the satisfaction from the learning and discovery that was taking place each day, was largely overshadowed by the lack of clarity about the future. My heart broke a bit for him as we talked. How often do we miss out on life in this moment because we’re so caught up in where we want to be in the future?

When we find that we’re losing connection with life as it unfolds in the moment, we can remind ourselves to "Hurry Slowly". A traditional saying that dates back to Emperor Augustus, “Hurry slowly” has the ring of a koan - a paradox to be contemplated in order to gain insight. Can we both move toward a desired outcome, and also remain firmly grounded in the present moment? Can we understand that this moment is not something to be moved through en route to some other moment - that this moment is essential and complete in and of itself?

Planning is not at all a bad thing. In fact, it’s essential. But when we are so focused on the future that we lose sight of the present, we suffer.

Luckily, are brains and mental habits are malleable and, with some awareness and redirecting, we can begin to reset our focus priority to the present. We can notice when we’re planning and note to ourselves, “Planning”, increasing our awareness of how often we time travel to the future. We’ll likely decide that many of those trips are unnecessary (rehearsing your name before being called on in a work meeting?) or redundant (having already had the same mental planning session several times that day). As we walk up the street, we might play with what it feels like to say to ourselves, “This step I’m taking right now is the most important step.” Walking upstairs can be particularly conducive to this - each step very deliberate, slower than walking, with a clear understanding that you can’t take the next step unless you take this one.