One of the most beautiful words has come to me in my time of deep reflection. And when I tell you that this word would have lit a fiery rage of anger inside my soul… There are times in my not-so-distant past when anything slow-moving or slow-thinking or slow-being would have made me absolutely livid.
I remember driving in my car, frantically changing lane to lane, calculating the most efficient path. I’d look 10 cars ahead, predict, shift, move with ease. To get to my destination approximately 2 minutes and 14 seconds faster. To do what? No, really, I’m asking to do what? I have no idea. None. But I needed to be there faster.
I remember cleaning my house, making lists to organize my progress. I’d never leave a room without something in hand to put into the other room as I’d pass through. I’d start laundry on my way from the bedroom to the kitchen. I’d fill the dishwasher and take out the trash and also sweep the floor but additionally organize the hallway closet because I had to be as absolutely efficient as possible. Funnily enough, I would run out of steam and find myself completely useless after less than an hour.
There have been countless conversations that I’ve dominated because I did not have the patience to listen fully before interrupting. Before filling in the blank (oftentimes incorrectly) because they were talking too inefficiently. The idea of waiting for the other person to formulate their words to communicate exactly what they wanted and needed to say made my skin crawl.
Please don’t get me started on teaching. Taking attendance while simultaneously writing a pass to the nurse and also pulling up my slide presentation for the day. At the same time asking a student in the back to put their phone away. And then listening to an announcement, but someone was vaping and also shouting. And then answering questions about the schedule and why I don’t have kids or also what my boyfriend does for a living and why my fingers are so long and why I got a haircut that makes me look like Lord Farquaad.
Thinking back on this time of high stress and high demand and high pressure, I say “Thank you, efficiency, for keeping me safe. For helping me survive.” Those times were dark and difficult and so much was asked of me. Efficiency was necessary for my survival (according to my lizard brain, anyway). But ironically, it did me a lot of damage. And I’ve been ready to let it go. It no longer serves me. And I love that.
I just got done doing the dishes, but got distracted towards the end of it by a podcast I was listening to. I paused to listen and to stretch and to move my body when I got achy. I told myself “I’ve got time. There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing.” And the dishes were there waiting for me. They got done, inefficiently.
My friend took me ice fishing recently. You’ve seen me before, I’m a skinny little thing. I get cold easy. And I bundled up. Put on layer after layer after layer. And thought it best to use the restroom before heading out on the ice. Like a toddler, I removed layer after layer and dilly-dallied. Almost out the door, I ran back to the kitchen for my snacks and then my fishing license, and some tea in case I got thirsty. My friend’s eyes said “I’ve got time. There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing.” And we made it out the door, bundled and safe and with plenty of snacks. Inefficiently.
I even drilled a hole in the ice, with a hand auger. You’ve seen me before, I’m a skinny little thing. It took a shocking amount of time. We were in no rush. There was nothing else we’d rather be doing. And sure enough, I pushed through the ice after what felt like hours, inefficiently.
In conversations now, I find myself studying the other person’s eyes and facial expressions while they search for the right words to give me the exact insight into their inner world. I patiently wait. What an honor it is to be spoken to with such precise intention. With such love and trust to see share with me their mind and soul. “Tell me,” I find myself gently saying, “but take your time. I don’t mind waiting.”
When I play board games, I don’t think as hard as I used to. I let go of my need for efficient strategery. I enjoy playing and not just winning. I don’t mind waiting for the other person to choose the right move or card (Unless, of course, it’s chess. I’m not there yet–not quite that patient yet.) I’m learning to enjoy their company as well as my own.
So now when I consider this beautiful word, inefficiently, my soul exhales. I communicate to myself that I am worth slowing down for. That there is nothing else I’d rather be doing than keeping myself company, entertaining my whims, and just being. I find it so blissfully ironic that this idea of slowness would have driven me mad. But here I am soaking in it like a warm bath. I love moving slowly. I love thinking slowly. I love living, inefficiently.