The Hidden Cost Of Speeding Up
& the wisdom of slowing down
I'm on my way to pick up my laptop from the computer store.
They close soon, and I may not get my laptop for another 24 hours if I'm not there in time.
My in-laws are also in town. I just left them back at a café, which I feel bad about. It can be stressful to meet with family, and I know my wife wasn't thrilled that I couldn't stay to support her.
As I race down the road, I notice that the battery on my electric bike is low. VERY low.
I recall that the faster the bike goes, the faster the battery is used up.
…fuck. Merde alors. Scheiße.
I'm stressed. Way too stressed for a Sunday.
As I slow my pace, I'm hit with a road side epiphany: the bike battery is a mirror.
When my energy is low or scattered, I have a tendency to speed up. But, like my e-bike, increased speed comes with a cost. It uses up the available fuel faster.
We live in a fast-paced world, often demanding more and faster. Yet, most people aren’t aware of the true cost of rushing, especially when there's not a lot of energy in the tank.
Clarity, wisdom, and contentment all flow naturally when you slow down, not speed up.
It’s one thing to slow down when you’re feeling good, but when you’re sick or just feeling low, it can be much harder.
Why is it so hard to slow down? Because slowing down invites us into what’s here: feelings, thoughts, sensations, etc. If what’s here is uncomfortable, then it’s a very logical choice to speed up and avoid the discomfort.
By slowing down, I was able to be present to my emotions: mostly anxiety and fear. This felt uncomfortable at first, but after a minute or so, I began to take in the scenery around me. The sunshine. The rice fields and the blue sky. I realized that all was well.
I drove to the store as slow as I could. I got there just in time to pick up my laptop, but by then, I was ready to accept that I might need to come back the next day.
I returned to the cafe, chatted with my in-laws, and then took a relaxing dip in the ocean. All was well. All is well.
The lesson of the day was clear:
When the tank is low, it’s best to go slow.