Slowliness

Slowliness

Words scamper through my mind, demanding attention. What is it with these words that pounce on me with a sense of urgency? They want me to believe that everything is an emergency. These words tell me to hurry. They urge me to squeeze more things into this minute so that I can ensure a certain kind of power, safety, and comfort. But these words are dressed up in costumes, pretending to be what they are not. I do not feel better when I hurry; I feel unsettled, breathless. Whose demand is this anyway? Do words have a life of their own, or is their meaning rented from the past? And if they are leased from the past, is it my past? I don’t think so.

As we move deeper into the information speedup of our contemporary culture, the collective unconscious demands swift expediency. Life is no longer a happening; it’s a race to the finish line. We used to move slowly, on foot. Then we moved by horse, and finally came the automobile that could go a whopping 10 miles per hour. The first airplane clocked in at about 30 miles per hour. Today a typical commercial passenger jet flies at a speed of about 400 – 500 knots, which is around 460 – 575 mph.

We have fast cars, fast planes, fast boats, fast food, fast everything. It is as if “fast” anything is the only acceptable way of living. But what would Babaji say? Babaji was an Eastern mystic who taught that slowliness was holiness. He advocated a way of living that went against the contemporary rush for life. He knew that as we sprinted toward the edge of living, we would eventually collapse, and when we did, we would outgrow the need to stuff life with our current proclivities. We would finally perceive the wisdom of intentional slowliness. We would do more than stop to smell the roses; we would drink from the ever-present well of living water and connect with our life’s energy, then let it flow. We would no longer chase the flow; we would become the flow.

Norman Vincent Peale tells of a time he was out of town for a speaking engagement. When his hosts picked him up, they were in emergency mode. They told him he would have to hurry to his hotel, dress, and rush to the speaking venue. Peale, in his unflappable way, didn’t bite. He went to his hotel room, took a 20-minute power nap and was able to meet his ride on time, well-dressed, and refreshed.

We seem to identify with a hurried busyness, as if frantic activity could keep us from crumbling into oblivion. Maybe it takes bravery to go against the current tide of intensity. Is a new, slow-down culture emerging? Perhaps, in part, there are Don Quixotes arising. After the French Revolution, the Man of La Mancha was known for his principal tenet that individuals can be right, while their society is quite incorrect and works against the welfare of its citizens.

Are we becoming tide turners? The number of people practicing meditation in the United States has tripled since 2012. Seven percent of children in the U. S. meditate. The Top 10 most popular meditation apps generated $195 million in sales in 2019. It is believed that between 200 and 500 million people around the world meditate, though Sadhguru claims that number is two billion. It is impossible to get accurate numbers, but regardless, we know there are more people than ever closing their eyes, taking a deep breath, and going on that inner journey. People are slowing down. There are 55 million yoga practitioners in the U. S. alone.

Maybe we are writing a new story. We need no longer start our stories with “Once upon a time, in a land far away….” No, we can now say, “Once upon a time, in the brilliant shining sun of now, we took refuge in the stillness of life. We watched the birds, contemplated the flowers….” What a wonderful story: to become the ground from which our culture breaks through the bitter hurriedness of this information age. No more paring stillness with idleness and the Devil. Gee gads. Who thought of that? Idleness rests in inertia. Stillness rests in an energetic flow. We are on the precipice of a renaissance. We are probably so worn out that we need it. We, as a culture, are unlocking the secrets of the mystics and finding that we can slow down and savor life. And it follows that when we take refuge in the slow flow of life, that life itself becomes EZier and EZier.