Above deserted streets, a rainbow stopped me on my daily walk.
We start learning about efficiency at a young age in the American school system. I remember, in third grade, my teacher would give us word puzzles as a mental break in between subjects. Parents complained we weren’t learning anything with the puzzles, and we stopped. This year, my senior year of college, I heard a school administrator shame my co-worker for not attending an on-campus presentation because he wanted his Sunday night free.
“You can relax when you’re retired,” he said.
Although I don’t think we should be taking 24-hour naps in our free time, I think we should value the time we have to breathe, and spare judgement when others choose to do the same. Right now, amidst a pandemic that is forcing us to take a global pause, we should appreciate the ability to take a breath and live in the moment, if we are privileged enough to do so.
Despite my feelings about living in the moment, it is really hard to accept this as an element of my everyday life. For me, it’s hard to sit still. It makes me anxious. Sitting down without my computer or work with me stresses me out. I can really only relax after dinner, when the work or school day would be over anyway. Productivity always seemed to be the only way my worth was determined, and I think other people are dealing with this self-valuation even in quarantine. Everything on the internet seems to be screaming at us to be productive even at home—to bake sourdough, to do yoga, to start a side hustle, to do something.
I have been thinking a lot about how I’m unable to enjoy the journey. I’m trying to fix my thought process by starting with small tasks. I am a notoriously fast walker; no matter where I am headed, my destination is all that concerns me. On my daily quarantine walks, I am trying to slow myself. It is so second nature for me to rush that I have to consciously focus on my steps. I step in counts of eight to steady myself and walk slowly. It’s all about small steps.