I live a very fast-paced life. Life with my kids--and all their activities--keeps me hopping. My work is generally a whirlwind that never stops while I'm on the clock. And most of the time, when I have a day off, I have close to a million adulty things I need to get done. But every once in a while, I will have a day off with nothing in particular that I need to check off my to-do list. (The adulty stuff never really goes away, but sometimes it's not so pressing.) On those days, I sometimes have a little bit of a panicky feeling. Or feelings of guilt. Or, on my darker days, feelings of not being enough. I am comfortable with the fast pace, in part because my personality is one of a mover, but also because it's what I'm used to and because it's what I've been taught makes a life important. I actually sometimes feel a little triggered to not have anything to do--as if I will somehow not be valuable or lovable on those days. After putting in lots of work on myself, I'm usually self-aware enough these days to realize when those thoughts are creeping in and threatening to take over, so I can have a little conversation with myself and not sink into a pit of despair. But it takes some effort to overcome the voices that have been playing in your head, dictating your worth, for so many years.
Like most Americans, I have been conditioned to believe that my worth is tied to and actually dependent on my performance and productivity. We live in a do more, have more, be more culture that looks on rest as weakness and a slow pace as laziness. But as I'm starting to prioritize peace more in my life, I'm beginning to realize that performance and productivity are not the paths that lead to peace. Quite the opposite really. They are poor measures of a life well-lived and an even poorer measure of a person's value. In fact, there is plenty of research that indicates that high-stress, performance-based, go-go-go lives lead to a whole host of physical and mental illnesses that are not seen at nearly the same rates in cultures that prioritize rest and simple living. Rest is not weakness but power. And slowing down is not laziness but an invitation to intentionality. I am serious about taking care of my responsibilities, but I'm learning that just being is enough. Busyness is not a merit badge. There isn't a prize at the end of this short life for being the most productive human (and how would you measure it even if there was?!). There also isn't a prize for being the most peaceful human. But I know for sure which kind of human I'd rather be. I understand now that I have inherent value that isn't tied to my accomplishments...or lack thereof. So, I'm learning to take those slow days as the gifts they are.
On those rare, beautiful, slow days, I'm allowing myself to go for long walks, which sometimes lead me to lovely unplanned conversations with neighbor friends I haven't seen in far too long, and read books that encourage and challenge and entertain me, and watch magical sunsets that assure me all is right with the world, and take naps that restore and rejuvenate me when the fast pace has been too much. I have slow coffee dates and lunch dates. I engage in unrushed conversations and meaningful moments with myself and others. I sit with my thoughts and try to untangle them. I write words and take pictures that are not tied to a paycheck. I play online Scrabble and Wordle, just because it's fun for me to arrange letters into words. And sometimes I get to the end of a slow day, and I have "nothing" to show for it except a peaceful spirit, and that's okay with me. I still have to remind myself that I have nothing to feel guilty about and that not accomplishing anything of note doesn't have anything to do with my value as a person, but I'm learning to truly relish the slow path to peace.
