Every year, my mom and I organize our “Godmother's Day.” My mom is the godmother of my sister’s son, and I’m the godmother of her daughter, so every year the four of us go on an outing to spend time with our godchildren. Last week was another Godmother’s Day, and we decided to take the train to the chocolate museum in Antwerp (which, by the way, I highly recommend!).
We met each other at the station, went to the right platform, and my 7-year-old nephew asked how long we’d have to wait for the train. “Twelve minutes,” was our answer. His reaction was clear: “TWEEEEELVE minutes?! That looooong?! Pffff, waiting is booooring!”
His reaction has stuck with me. Not because I think my nephew is strange or impatient, but because I think he’s a child of his time. He, his sister, and those billions of other children on this planet are growing up in a fast-paced world. A world where we want something, and can have it ordered within a minute. Everything is available, and many products or services are delivered within an incredibly short timeframe. Waiting a week for a piece of clothing bought online, or waiting two hours for your dinner, has become unthinkable. “I want what I want, and I want it now!” is the general trend. And everything has to go fast, even bicycles (how often do you still come across regular bikes plodding along at 15 km/h (9 mph)? Not very often anymore!).
I don’t want to sound like an old, complaining woman, because I’m not, but I do think it’s useful to reflect on this. To consciously make that counter-movement myself, to make conscious choices that help slow down life. I’ve been doing this for years, but because of my nephew’s comment, I’ve been acting on it more consciously and more often over the past week.
To see my godchild’s ultrasound, I recently went to Leuven, and normally I do that by train and folding bike. This time I took the train and the bus. The bus, which is unpredictable and slow, serves its “slow purpose” precisely because of that: it’s neither fast nor streamlined, and you have no choice but to surrender to whatever comes and whenever it comes, without having any control over it. And I have to say: it worked. It was a bit annoying for a moment when the bus to the station just wouldn’t show up and I really wanted to catch my train home, but that’s exactly where the surrender lay: if it’s not this train, then it’ll be the next one. It’s not the end of the world. Then I’ll just have to wait half an hour (which, with my crochet work in my bag, isn’t a disaster either).
Over the past week, I’ve also chosen more often to—in good old-fashioned style—line up at the supermarket checkout instead of using the handheld scanner. I hadn’t done that in months. I actually think those handheld scanners are really great: scan everything right in the store, put it straight into your own bag or trolley, and just scan your loyalty card and pay at one of those individual checkout counters. No lining up, no waiting, and no interaction whatsoever with cashiers or other customers. Just fast and efficient. But of course, that’s exactly the problem. Maybe it’s precisely those things that encourage a fast-paced life... That’s why I’ve been deliberately joining the line at the checkout this past week. And actually, the waiting was quite nice. It really teaches you that life can’t go exactly as you want it to, because people simply don’t do what you want them to. They’re slow or clumsy, or they talk too much or stand too close to you, or whatever else might be annoying at a checkout like that. But it also provided opportunities for social interaction and acts of kindness, like letting someone with only a few items go ahead of you, or helping someone who dropped something, or simply thanking the cashier and wishing her a nice day. What helped me most was consciously choosing to wait. Learning that waiting isn't annoying, but a normal part of life.
Last week I also consciously cycled much more slowly. I ride an electric bike, but when I turn off the assist, it doesn’t go faster than 15 km/h (9 mph), and that’s pretty slow. But the unhurried nature of it is what brings peace. Although this isn’t really new to me at all. For at least a year now, I’ve been cycling on the lowest assistance setting, which means I go much slower than the average cyclist here. Even a year ago, when I was still picking up my nephew and niece from school with the bike trailer, they’d comment every week on how terribly slow I was cycling and that I “had” to go faster. Every time, I’d turn it into a whole lecture about how living slowly is good, how it brings peace, and how I don’t understand why everything has to go so fast. I’d always get two sighs in response. Eventually, they gave up complaining about it, those two fast-paced, speedy little ones of ours. They just know now that their Tata lives slowly, and that it works for me. They aren’t there yet themselves, but maybe they will be someday. Maybe someday they’ll feel suffocated by the fast-paced, speedy, here-and-now life too.
Maybe that’s exactly it—that rush of dopamine in all those fast-paced actions. That instant gratification and the little shot of happiness you feel when you get what you want. But the mind always wants more: more satisfaction, more dopamine kicks, more, faster, and better. And so we keep buying, chasing, and consuming. It happens automatically, and the world encourages us to do it. Making that counter-movement takes effort, but it’s worth it.
For me, for example, it means that—very consciously—I’m working on three crochet projects and three embroidery projects at the same time as a rule. That way, it takes weeks or even months for something to be finished, and I don’t get the dopamine rush I’m so sensitive to. Delaying gratification. And that is precisely where true, spiritual fulfillment comes from: enjoying the process, the journey toward it, life as it is. The slowness, the beauty.
As I write this, I’m reminded of “Nothing Else” by Forrest Frank (I know, Forrest Frank again. I’m just a fan, I’m afraid!). In it, he sings:
This world is always tryin' to tell me I need more (you need more)A bigger house, a couple cars will fill the void (alright)But then I get it and I still feel just as poorSo I tell all that to head right out the door
'Cause I woke up with a good thing laying by my sideI woke up to some birds singing, "Hey look, I'm alive"I've got my family, Jesus and my healthAnd if I've got all that, I really don't need nothing else, nothing else (uh uh)
This life is always tryin' to get me in a rush (in a rush)Keep movin' quicker and one day you'll be enough (alright)But if I do that, I won't stop and smell the rosesAnd end up being soulless and hope nobody notices
I'm getting sick of endless scrolling on my cellphoneI wanna go back to the place I had myself knownThe enemy could try to kill, rob and destroyBut one thing he cannot take is my joy (uh uh)
I think he’s right. We lose ourselves by going along with the fast-paced, here-and-now mentality of the world. Going against that isn’t easy, but it’s definitely worth it. For me, it’s the best way to maintain a good connection with myself, God, and my fellow human beings. So it’s definitely worth it!
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