Slow Your Roll

Like most New Yorkers, I often get annoyed by people who walk more slowly than I do. I think I fancy myself to be some kind of urban foot-racer: fast, agile, and out to win the Indy 500. The thing is, if I’m moving more quickly than the crowd, people can’t see me coming. I can blame their lack of awareness, but I’m going to take an elbow to the body if they make an unforeseen turn while I’m moving so fast. At some point, I have to admit: I’m the one who has to slow tf down.

In our society, we’re taught to value quick turns: quick calculations, quick conclusions, quick growth. The thing is, life often isn’t moving that fast. Just because you listen to a financial podcast at 1.5x speed doesn’t mean your wounds around money will heal that quickly. Just because you had an epiphany on a silent retreat doesn’t mean the rest of your life will have caught up to it when you get home. Our hearts, like the seasons of nature, follow a rhythm that our intellects are powerless to accelerate. Actually, the more we use our thinking minds to force change, the more we fight the tempo of reality and create more tension.

There’s that story of a man who goes to a Zen teacher and asks, “How long will it take me to become enlightened?” The teacher thinks for a moment, then replies, “About ten years.” “And if I work really hard?” the man asks. “In that case,” the teacher replies, “twenty.”

The Navy SEALs say: “Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.” We make life rough by constantly changing lanes, approaches, and plans. But real change comes from bringing qualities of care to what you’re doing, and you just can’t do that at 100mph. Slow your roll, as Walter Sobchak said. As you go through this day, try to subtract as many little points of tension, slippage, and friction as you can. You’ll soon be sliding to grace and glory.