“Slow down you crazy child. Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while. It's alright, you can afford to lose a day or two. When will you realise, Vienna waits for you?” – ‘Vienna’ by Billy Joel
I think we lose touch of this idea in the hurried reprise of everyday routine. We somehow fool ourselves into believing there’s normality in a constant state of hurry. I mean, let’s be real, we spend hours of our lives rushing around: rushing to physically or mentally better ourselves, rushing to grow up, rushing to find a sense of stability, or just rushing to reach the bus on time! I, for one, often find myself consumed by the stress of “what’s next?”, drowning in an ocean of pressure and predestined uncertainty as I hurry towards shaping a future for myself. You see, there’s only so many hours in a day, yet each hour is worried or wasted away in an attempt to fast-track the next step on our journey. I’ve recently learnt the value of being selective with what deserves my stress, and tirelessly pursuing a future which is as uncontrollable as next week’s weather, is frankly something that is totally unworthy.
Speaking from experience I know that future-oriented stress can be pretty suffocating, relentlessly tugging on the unravelling thread of internal doubt or second-guessing which ensues when quizzed with questions like “what’s the game plan after uni?” or “so now that you’ve achieved that, what’s next?”. It has the tantalising ability to taint an innocently positive moment and disconnect you from it completely, out of fear of falling behind or not maintaining that forward momentum. Let’s face it, we’re all so ahead of ourselves, that relishing in the present moment can often fall into the background while we simply struggle to keep our head above water. Maybe it’s the expectations we or others hold us accountable for which trick us into thinking we’ll get a break in the weather, or the pressure will ease once we cross the finish line. Although, the reality is our young adult minds—for the most part—are the equivalent to a revolving door; an ongoing orbit of pontification which busily ventures to discover the next undertaking we must achieve, as the previous door circulates. We’ve all become so time poor that we absurdly assume we can’t afford to lose even one iota – for me even the action of donating time to slow down and sit with myself has become a rarity. Perhaps it’s the continuous pressure to remain productive which our progressive society demands of us as we grow older; a judgement that deems us to be “in limbo” if we’re not ambitiously chasing a new frontier. I find we often pair the notion of slowing down with laziness, or put the ability to break away from stressful situations into the same basket as “avoidance” – when really we should ditch the guilt-trip and treat these blissful moments as reminders of the present.
You see, we had no issue with this as tamariki, we never second guessed spending hours colouring in the driveway with chalk, or searching the shoreline for the perfect totorere shell ring, nor did we mentally fast-forward to the worst case scenario of removing our bikes training wheels – we just kept peddling. We had our whole lives ahead of us so never hesitated or questioned our present reality, we rather embellished it with our spirited imaginations’, making individual moments that much more memorable. But when do we lose that magical ability to be fearlessly and uninterruptedly present, or simply revel in the pure joy of life? Perhaps as we’re propelled into the “real world” our innate rush to grow up kicks into high gear, converting moments which our childhood selves would’ve cherished as significant memories, into a somewhat hurried blur of occasions and interactions. It’s all too easy to get caught up in the count down of life’s hourglass, but eternally chasing an ever-changing future is about as productive as a turtle on a treadmill, so why not soak up the present and spare the mad dash?
Last night I was hanging out with my beautiful mum, and she had a split-second temptation to plug her phone into the amp and set the speakers alight with “Love is a Battlefield” by Pat Benatar. With the brightest smile on her face, she stood up and began to dance around the living room. It may seem pretty trivial to some, but life slowed down for those few minutes. It was as if I could sense her happiness radiating in slow motion, and all the pointless pontificating over life’s distractions dissipated. There was no mayhem, no chaos, no madness; we were both utterly and entirely present. In that moment I realised that we often hang onto the negative pressures in our lives, and inevitably become removed from our ability to recognise the positive presence of a candid moment. We owe it to ourselves to slow down and catch our breath every so often, rather welcoming the future twists and turns tossed our way, instead of foolishly wasting away the present moment by simply trying to “keep up!” After all, life waits for us, and we can each afford to take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while.