During a recent visit, my dear friend Melissa, always curious, asked me about my daily routine. I struggled to answer her. The next day, I had a eureka moment as I pondered my inability to articulate what I do each day. I am very much a person of routine; for example, I have run for over five decades and always run the same trail in the same direction on the same days. But unlike the first half of life, I no longer have a rigid list of to-do’s. I suppose now you could call it a list of to-be’s.
Today, I want to be a writer, and tomorrow, I want to be a painter; another day, I want to be a reader, an explorer, a lover, an athlete, a tourist, etc. If the mood strikes me, I will be something else. I am lucky to enjoy the freedom to live a life of being rather than a life of doing. But this somewhat unique life tends to defy explanation.
When we moved to the wilderness at Kalien Retreat, I did a watercolor for the great room that said, “There is No Hurry.” We had no schedule, but I still found myself speeding up the ridge in the SXS to complete a task at one of the cabins. I would admonish myself out loud, “Randy, there is no hurry, slow down!” as I hurtled up the bumpy path at breakneck speed. But it seemed there was always something to do. Cut up a fallen tree, grade the dirt driveways where rain had destroyed them, repair a fence, cut the grass, feed the horses, and maintain the trails. It was exhausting.
It was not until we moved to Spain that Gina and I truly discovered the “slow life.” The Spanish people have a favorite word that you hear repeatedly: Tranquilo. It means calm, peaceful, and relaxed; it means to slow down. It means “there is no hurry.” The broader connotation is that it is better to be than to do. The people here work to be able to live, unlike most Americans who live to do work. It is a significant mindset and lifestyle change.
It is a full-being transition.
Many of my friends and family are terrified of retirement because they are avid “doers.” They often say, “I will work ’til I die.” “I could never slow down.” “What would I do all day?” In the rat race of American life, there is never the opportunity to be. Being is countercultural. Doing is acceptable.
How do we transition from a lifetime of doing to a life of being?
Slowing Down Physically
Several factors come to mind in the physical realm of the slow life. We do not have a car here. It is fascinating how walking everywhere or riding mass transit slows one down. Walking is slower than driving and demands far less attention to the task. I found myself noticing things I’d never given the time of day: doorknobs, architecture, weather, people talking, laughing, eating together, and playing together.
I found myself savoring life.
People do not get in a hurry here. At first, it wasn’t very pleasant: Standing in long lines, trying to go past someone on the sidewalk, waiting for a bus or train behind schedule. But I’m finally learning to say to myself, “Tranquilo, there is no hurry. Relax.”
A personal physical example (forgive me if it is too much information for you) is during my tantric massage sessions. It is still new for me to experience this highly sensual ritual of meditative and sexual techniques. It remains difficult for me to understand that the tantric goal of the session is not doing the orgasm but being during the journey, to understand it is a place to go, not a thing to do. My therapist consistently and patiently encourages me with a knowing smile and the words “Tranquilo,” “Relax,” and “Enjoy the journey.” I cannot emphasize this task’s difficulty for a control freak like me who wants to get things done.
Slowly but surely, I feel my body slowing down. And I am learning to appreciate the sheer joy of slowing down physically. Admittedly, I am slowing down with age, but that is not what I’m talking about. Yet that is also a positive, for I can see this physical slowing will be incredibly beneficial as I enter the years of elderhood.
Sure, there are days I wake up and think, what the hell am I going to do today? But I try to reframe the question. Who am I going to be today? I can be anyone I want to be. Now, how cool is that?!
Slowing Down Mentally
This aspect of the slow life is the opposite of what it sounds like. I am not referring to the gradual slowing of cognitive functioning in aging. Instead, it is mindfulness, slowing down our racing minds and paying attention to what matters.
Meditation, a relatively new process to me, has helped me understand my mind’s breakneck speed. I pop from one subject to the next in milliseconds, thousands of subjects a day, and never stop to think to slow my thoughts down. In my practice of transcendental meditation, I mentally repeat a mantra (I’ve written my own) for twenty to thirty minutes. When my mind strays as it is apt to do, being kind to myself, I gently return to the beginning of the mantra. I am stunned at how my mind will instantly race to a random string of thoughts spurred by one word of the mantra.
Slowing down my mind is one of the most challenging things I’ve attempted, but the rewards are many.
Often, as I finish meditation, I feel waves of euphoria, similar to a sexual afterglow, but mental rather than physical. My mind feels refreshed, serene, tranquil, and calm. With the obvious benefits, it confounds me that I struggle to set aside time for mindfulness. But when I do, it reminds me again what a beautiful and invaluable thing it is to slow down mentally, if only for a few minutes a day.
Slowing Down Emotionally
I have chosen twelve qualities I want to exemplify in the second half of my life. One of those, equanimity, is appropriate here. Equanimity means being calm and even-tempered; composure, evenness of mind; calm or firmness of mind which is not easily elated or depressed; patience; calmness, in two words, emotional tranquility.
My first half of life as an artistic, complex, highly sensitive person with a wide range of emotions was highly emotional and passionate—the opposite of equanimity.
Only when researching The Quest and discovering the life-changing revelations of affect theory was I entirely able to appreciate the ideas of healthy and unhealthy emotions, my emotional triggers, and my emotional scripts. Slowing my reactions to emotional triggers and rewriting my subsequent reactions into thoughtful actions has been critical to a far more enjoyable life.
Through affect theory, I learned that my healthy emotions are excitement, enjoyment, and, at appropriate times, anger. My unhealthy emotions are shame, fear, and guilt. Knowing this makes it easier to minimize unhealthy emotions and maximize healthy ones. This knowledge leads to a far more equanimous life. Exchanging the chaos and division of the American political landscape for the tranquility and camaraderie of Spain has also aided in slowing down my emotions.
Slowing Down Spiritually
I’ve written at length about my spiritual transition from a religious cult, which required obeying rules (goodness) and doing works (perfection) for “eternal” rewards, to a humanistic belief system of simply being whole. The spiritual tranquility I have today is difficult to express adequately. Read my essay My Confession or my memoir, Renaissance Redneck, for more on this subject.
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Now, I want to find an answer to Melissa’s question: “What is my daily routine?” For me, a Slow Life means waking up without an alarm and, if the mood is right, enjoying sex and then having a leisurely coffee hour with my companion. We often discuss the previous night’s dreams and their implications, symbolism, and meaning. We then discuss the enjoyable topics (to me) of the weekly menu for breakfast and dinner.
If I have not previously done so, I then determine whether I will be a writer, painter, explorer, traveler, researcher, or something else that brings me joy. A typical day begins with an hour or two of exercise, preparing a leisurely breakfast between 11 a.m. and 1 p.m., and an hour reading my favorite periodicals, such as The New York Times, The Atlantic, Vox, The Local, and others.
Gina or I do necessary errands to the markets and various stores. I take on my persona for the day, enjoy a few hours being me, and meditate. Next comes the cocktail hour, which is usually two hours or so. We have extended conversations about the books we are reading and the latest news, and we read out loud to one another helpful articles about relationships, cooking, housekeeping, and travel that one of us has found.
If we don’t go out, dinner is next, around 7 p.m. to 9 p.m., which usually involves extended preparation and cooking time, sometimes with friends, followed by la sobremesa (extended conversation around the table). Next is a retreat to our theatre room for YouTube clips of Seth Myer, Stephen Colbert, Jimmy Kimmel, and the Daily Show or bingeing a favorite series. Then off to bed. Travel, a regular massage, and language study are also sprinkled in.
All bets are off for the weekends. It is a free time of togetherness and fun. It could be the beach, a new Barcelona attraction, or similar.
And that, to us, is The Slow Life. It still feels new and pleasant. And we are so grateful we can be who we are instead of what we do. I realize many of you do not have this privilege because you are still in your first life or because of extenuating financial circumstances. And my heart goes out to you. I intend for this post to encourage those of you who can slow down one day and be. Hopefully, we can then swap ideas about daily routine, new books, new shows, new ideas for dialogue, and more.
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