The Pressure to Slow Down

Sometimes it seems like the very invitation to slow down as a pressure itself. At least for me. I think that sometimes there are moments when we stretch ourselves, we push the boundaries, we have peaks of activity, but then, and both, afterward and before, we try to maintain a personalized normal. Slow, semi-slow, very slow, not slow at all. Or fast. Or intense.

This summer, a friend suggested a few days of disconnection. I liked the idea; we traveled by train, and I, for one, decided to do nothing, or multiple nothings. At most, to listen to music and at least to sleep, to bask in the sun. My friend brought some books with her, and in all this context, I browsed through one of her books:?The Life Intense: A Modern Obsession , by Tristan Garcia.

I expected a critique of speed, and I got one. The abstract and philosophical concept seemed complicated at first, then just complex, and finally, when the author provided a bit of resolution and even a rehabilitation of speed, I made peace with the book. What I call speed in daily life, the author placed in a different context, speaking about intensity.

The text explores the concept of the "electric person" or "intense person." The author believes that this type of person lives in a metaphysical state that embraces constant change and intensity, preferring it to static identities or absolute truths. This person is heroic in their refusal to cling to stable identities, thriving in a world characterized by constant variation. Instead of interpreting reality through fixed concepts, the electric person seeks to amplify their perceptions, living life intensely and energetically.

This person rejects the promise of a better future life and focuses instead on the experience of the present, intensified and continuously amplified. The intense person challenges their limits to fully update their capabilities in all areas of life—physical, intellectual, emotional—seeking perfection not in a completed, idealized state, but in the act of continuous intensification. They thrive through new and intense experiences to avoid monotony, finding meaning through the continuous renewal of life's intensity.

The author argues that as intensity has become normalized, it has been quantified and rationalized in society, becoming the opposite of what it originally represented. Instead of representing what was elusive or unquantifiable, intensity has now been dissected into measurable figures, creating a model of the "intense person." In sports, for example, this change is evident, with athletics becoming a demonstration of maximizing human potential rather than a revival of ancient rituals.

Modern society standardizes these intensities into a form of conformity, pushing individuals to seek ever more extreme sports. This endless pursuit of intensity often provokes a sense of alienation and even depression, as society imposes the paradox of infinite growth and the impossibility of achieving complete satisfaction. Contemporary philosophy and sociology have extensively explored the collapse caused by the modern pressure for continuous intensity, labeling this phenomenon burnout, exhaustion, or collapse.

Jonathan Crary warns of a model that attacks sleep to promote uninterrupted activity, creating a "Burnout Society" as described by Byung-chul Han. Psychoanalyst Alain Ehrenberg describes this situation as a world in constant change, where maintaining intensity becomes increasingly difficult. Initially, the term "burnout" described collapse induced by addiction, but it now refers to the emotional exhaustion of workers overwhelmed by the demands of intense productivity. Pascal Chabot observes that performance demands ultimately undermine self-actualization. This endless intensity leads to psychological and social suffering, highlighting a paradox: the more we pursue intensity, the more we weaken it.

The concept of intensity, while seemingly opposed to logic, follows a paradoxical logic. When individuals or societies pursue intensity as a guide, they become trapped in a self-destructive cycle, where the increase in intensity leads to the loss of the initial experience. Routine becomes the price paid to maintain perception and thought. We arrive at "routine progress," where each acceleration of intensity simultaneously generates disappointment and distance from past experiences. This phenomenon is evident in economic or technological promises, which, while captivating, make the present seem insufficient. Ultimately, progress and its pursuit generate a sense of monotony, haunted by the unconscious cycle of routine that diminishes authentic enthusiasm for the future.

“Primaverism,” the ethos of living each experience as if it were the first time, emerges as a response to the routine effect that erases the novelty and intensity of life. While routine erodes the feeling of progress and novelty, the intensity of a first-time experience remains preserved in memory. Each moment could be reframed as a “new beginning,” reviving the routines of life. Maturity might involve learning to live experiences as if they were new, even if we have lived them many times before.

I declare myself intensely connected to this phenomenon and still digesting this perspective, which I adopt in numerous contexts. Still digesting. Less when I’m in a hurry, and when things gain intensity!