26. gently down the stream
on slowness
hey folks!
another guest post this week! this time from jeffrey shi, my adopted underclassman son who, i found out last week, just declared a joint concentration in english and physics (if any other english majors out there want to join me in peer pressuring him to drop physics, let me know). it is half-lamentation on the loss of a hi-boy pro S2 scooter, half-reflection on how we set the pace of our lives — through a thoughtful, measure gaze so characteristic of jeffrey.
we’ll have a few more guests posts in the coming weeks, so stay tuned — and happy reading!
-k
Recently, I’ve been trying to take things slow.
I’m not sure how it all started, but this inclination to slow down has seeped into every crevice of my life. I’ve been listening to slower music, speaking more slowly in conversations, reading slower, running slower; I’ve been sipping instead of chugging, savoring instead of gorging — I’ve even opted to walk from the Quad to class instead of using my electric scooter.
Perhaps this has been the most dramatic change of all. Those who know me will know my passion for my Hi-Boy Pro S2 scooter. I can’t name many things I love more, and I used to travel anywhere so long as I could scooter. If my roommates wanted snacks or late-night pizza, I would happily serve as their delivery driver; I helped deliver food so often that they called me the Currier Courier (they didn’t). There’s just something so euphoric about scootering across campus, feeling the wind whisper through my hair, carving corners and drawing S’s in the road.
Scootering has always managed to bring me so much joy, despite all the pain it has caused me in the past. This past fall, I fractured my wrist (Kalos and I were sprain-turned-fractured injury buddies!) while on my scooter due to a truly unfortunate accident that was not my fault at all. After the accident, I swore to never scooter while drunk again, and for months I had to wear a stiff white cast over my left hand. A few weeks later, the same scooter was stolen outside Jefferson Hall. I took it as a sign from the universe, and promised myself that my days of scootering were over.
Eventually, I caved and bought a new scooter off Amazon. But in those weeks without a scooter, I did a lot more walking, and I discovered that there’s music for scootering and music for walking.
When scootering, you usually have time for 1 song, sometimes 1.5 — 2 songs at most if you’re going to Lev/Dunster/Mather (the river quad). The distance from the Quad to the Science Center is exactly one unit of “Where You Are” — John Summit. Walking, however, is a different story. The commute time is much longer (obviously), but the vibes are also different. Because the journey is slower, the music must follow suit. Listening to EDM while zipping through Cambridge Commons at 19 MPH is awesome, but the feeling falls short when strolling by foot.
As I was searching for something other than EDM to listen to, I stumbled into indie folk music. It was a suggestion from my roommate, and soon my playlists consisted of artists like Gregory Alan Isakov, Fleet Foxes, and Nick Mulvey. The music was slow and calm, and it’s exactly what I needed to match the pace of my walks.
I’m not quite sure how to describe it, but the feeling of listening to slow music while walking slowly is like a smooth blend of tranquility, concentration, vitality, and simplicity. I think slowness is often contiguous with notions of stillness and serenity, and as I started slowing down in other aspects of my life, I was instantly rewarded. Running slower allowed me to run longer. Speaking slower allowed me to articulate my thoughts better. Slowness even became an antidote for my stress. I would repeat the following mantra to myself when anxious: Slow down, Slow down, Slow down. Put it this way: I could list for you a million different areas that I need to slow down in, but not a single one to speed up.
As I’ve been trying to understand exactly why slowness can be helpful to us, I’ve realized that perhaps, it is not the magnitude of speed that matters, but the relative speed. In physics, you learn that everything in nature has a resonant frequency, and when, say, a tuning fork is played at its resonance, the intensity of emitted sound is amplified. In other words, there is a certain speed or frequency that every object belongs to — and I think, in a very metaphysical sense, this holds true for humans as well.
In my experience, Harvard has taught me the importance of productivity, working fast and efficiently to get things done. It’s particularly hard to slow down here, when I feel like slowing down means that others will progress ahead. As a result, I think that we operate at a pace that exceeds our own natural resonances, which leads to stress and anxiety not because we’re moving too fast, but because we’re out of sync.
Recently, this quote by Seneca has been emblazoned into my mind. In some ways, I think it captures the emphasis on productivity that we experience at Harvard.
If the wind will not serve, take to the oars.
While Seneca’s words are wise, I think he forgets to mention how the boat should be rowed. And to that question, my mind turns to a different saying. One that I find much more meaningful (and deeper).
Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream
Merrily merrily, merrily, merrily
Life is but a dream
I’m not trying to prescribe slowness into our lives, or preach about its affordances. There are books and TED Talks that do a much better job at this. However, I hope this post can serve as a reminder to slow down, because I think we often get caught in the currents swirling around us. Sometimes, all it takes is paying attention and being alert to the speed that we travel with in life. Awareness is everything. And I suspect when we begin reading the speedometer, we’ll notice ourselves sailing through life way over the speed limit.
Have a message for Jeffrey? Wanna say “thank you” or “i feel that” or “i disagree” or “please marry me”? You can do so using the Reply Box below!
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