My new ambition is to be a snail…
move slow and leave a sparkling trail.
It does not sound like a very grand ambition but in a grind culture such as ours (that worships productivity, idolises busy and whose driving beat is urgent and incessant) it’s no small thing.
My goal is to resist the compulsion to be productive all the time and to celebrate and embrace the slow. To move at a pace that feels comfortable and luxurious. To take rests whenever I need.
Because I tried the other. For a long time I was very busy and drove myself ruthlessly. I said ‘Yes’ to things I would have liked to say ‘No’ to and kept pushing myself, even when there was not much juice left. And you know what? It really tired me out! And what’s more, it was a hungry ghost. The harder I worked, the more I poured in, the more seemed to be asked or expected of me. There was no end point when I felt that I could really relax.
Then the world stopped. You know, the pandemic. And we were told to cancel all our plans.
And I felt relieved, momentarily.
But then panic set in and so I ramped up the activity. I doubled down on productivity; built an online business in the evenings, cared for the kids during the day; and hustled harder then ever. Till I was completely toasted.
It wasn’t immediately apparent to me just how far I’d gone beyond my limit till after I stopped.
You know how when a smoker stops smoking they reportedly regain their sense of smell in a certain number of days and then their sense of taste comes back and their lungs begin to heal and they find that they can breathe a bit more easily? Well after I stopped grinding so hard, I found my enjoyment of my children came back. And food tasted better than it had. And I started to get my mojo back in the kitchen. I had more creative energy. I started enjoying my yoga and meditation again. And I started laughing more readily and cracking the shits a bit less. And so, not only could I breathe a little easier but those around me could too.
It made me wonder, why on Earth had I been hustling so hard before?
It wasn’t like I had been building an empire and amassing a fortune. In truth, the money I made just covered the cost of childcare and not even that some weeks.
I had always claimed that the work was fulfilling and felt aligned with a sense of purpose. But actually, I think it was more ego driven than that. Of course I loved the community, including the people I worked with, but there was nothing stopping me from loving them without all the frantic productivity. No one was asking me to do that. So what was the real driver then? I think, in truth, I liked being busy because I had bought the lie that my worthiness was tied to my productivity. I was hustling for worthiness. To feel valuable. The subconscious narrative was something like ‘If I do all this extra stuff and prove my worth, then I’ll be useful, maybe even indispensable. My job will be safe and I’ll be safe.’
So now, I’m working on unravelling from that little knot I got myself tangled in.
I’m moving more slowly, staying mellow (except when the will to move quick rises up and then I ride that enthusiasm BUT not out of a sense of ought to, or have to, or driving myself ruthlessly on) and giving myself permission to relax and savour the world. I’m reminding myself of my inherent worthiness and value.
I put a bounceback on my email to say it might take me a few days to respond to messages but that I’m available if you need me sooner via text (but don’t leave me a voicemail for the love of God - ain’t nobody got time for voicemail!).
And I’m trying to remember that I’m worthy of pleasure. That I’m a human being, not a human doing. And I don’t have to earn the right to have a cup of tea or read a fiction book. That being idle and blessed is not only allowable but that it might just be - don’t laugh - the meaning of life!
I’m channelling my favourite poet, Mary Oliver, when I say this. You might be familiar with one of her most beloved poems ‘A Summer Day’. In it she talks about being “idle and blessed” and spending her days strolling through fields being intimate with nature.
"I don't know exactly what a prayer is. I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass, how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields, which is what I have been doing all day. Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon? Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
Being idle and blessed. Restful and attentive. Paying such wrapt attention that you become reverent. That’s the goal. So slow, so present, it’s Spiritual. As philosopher Simone Weil says “Absolutely unmixed attention is prayer.”
But if you’re running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off, you’ll never experience it.
The other day, as I was attempting to put this being “idle and blessed” into practice, I took a casual stroll along the rock wall by Durrumbul (the Brunswick River) and there, I saw a Kingfisher catching his breakfast.
I was walking slowly, rather than running or exercising or doing asana or other ‘productive’ thing, attempting to ‘just be’. I soon became lost in thought. When I noticed this had occurred I smiled at myself. I dropped my brain back into my senses to see what was happening there, check in with the present moment. The touch of air on my skin. The colours of the world. And then, as if a reward for my coming back, I noticed something amazing that had been within my line of sight for some time. A magnificent flash of iridescent blue on the rocks. Kingfisher. His wings were so striking, unnaturally bright and brilliant, that I was mesmerised and flooded with immense joy.
I shot out a prayer of thanks to our First Nations Ancestors - my heart was so full i had to thank somebody and they seemed like the right ones to thank. Or at least, that they’d understand the sentiment and share my joy.
That one little encounter with Kingfisher has buoyed me for days. And I’m finding that the more I practice this, the better I am it. Suddenly I’m remembering there’s much to be thankful for, so much goodness everywhere and I’m taking it all in, anchoring it within by giving it my full attention.
I feel like mentioning, that I’m not entirely down on productivity. How else do the words of a poem ever get written? Or gardens planted? How do we catch a wave, if we don’t paddle out? How do we leave a sparkling trail if we never move?
I’m all for sparkling trails and paddling and planting and even the more mundane but also important productivity of washing dishes and duties of all kinds but just not for the kind of productivity that’s driven by a sense of lack. The kind that says you must always do more, more, more to be worthy. That you have something to make up for, or prove.
That one is fear-driven in me. It hijacks my nervous system and has me feeling perpetually wound tight.
Rather, I want to ride the willingness. To move because I’m inspired to. Because it feels meaningful and nourishing. And even then, with a mindfulness of my energy so that I’m always feeling like I have the juice for it.
The difference feeling like ‘you gotta’ and ‘riding the willingness’ is kind of like the difference between eating salad because it’s good for you and your Mum says you have to, and eating salad because it’s goddamn delicious and your body says YES! Yum!
I don’t know how it goes down in the snail world really but I see how they love the green stuff, so I’m going with the metaphor. Move slow, leave a sparkling trail and, eat salad because it’s delightful!
Of course, I acknowledge that there’s a kind of necessary productivity that has to do with survival, that is not a choice. That certainly exists too. We simply can’t survive without food so we’ll have to either work to afford it, grow it, or forage for it, for example. But I’m wondering, can I be in the midst of that kind of work and still find a sense of relaxation, or ease within? A sense of doing what is necessary and being content with that - like a bird might be about building it’s nest? Or how my little dog approaches burying his bone? Industriously engaged, tail wagging, full of enthusiasm and then, happily takes a break, lying down for a moment and flopping her tongue out to pant it out. It’s a lot to hope for. I know that sometimes it just won’t be within reach. I acknowledge that life is not always going to be slow and sparkling but maybe, by holding my snail intention near, it might sometimes be. As one of my teachers jo buick puts it “Can I move more frequently in the direction of ease?”
Anyhow, I’m feeling the end of this particular rush of enthusiasm to share and it’s time for me to retreat back into my shell for a while. Thank you for your precious attention. Sending you love and wishing you a moment of blessed idleness today.
Note:
If you are curious about your relationship to rest or are looking for some resources to help you unpack the politics, the science, the pleasure and the spirituality of rest may I recommend the work of brilliant educator and embodiment practitioner jo buick. Her course, Dimensions of Rest was and is an incredibly helpful support for me in enquiring into this topic. jo, along with her guest facilitators, not only shared generously their wisdom on the topic, they also modelled the work and provided opportunities to embody the dimensions. I’m still, slowly, going through the resources and handbook which jo provided. In September she’ll be running the course again, online. Visit jobuick.com for more.