Slow day
Living slowly can be scary in our fast-paced world. I think that practising slowness, taking part in its normalisation, talking about it openly, learning from others about their ways of living slowly are acts of everyday activism.
I decided to write about this day, sketching notes throughout rather than in the end of the day. Nothing special is happening on this day. Yet, just like any other day, it's still special. These days are very warm and sunny here in Copenhagen, and the sunlight feels intoxicating.
I woke up early, between 5 and 6 am. It's not because I set my alarm to wake up early and "get things done". Rather, it's because the sun rises very early these days. I don't have curtains, so I naturally wake up earlier in spring and summer. I stayed in bed for a while looking at the rays of the sun visiting my home. It's such a magical experience after a long Nordic winter, living in a studio apartment whose only window faces the North. I stopped using my alarm clock on a daily basis many years ago, as it always felt like a violent way to wake up. These days, I use it only several times a year perhaps in situations when I need to get up extremely early, e.g., if I'm taking a train. Most of the time I can avoid it via scheduling my meetings later on in the morning and taking later trains. I came to a realisation that when it comes to most meetings, there is no urgency, and nothing bad will happen if a meeting takes place at, say, 11 am instead of 8 am.
Before diving into some work tasks, I decided to wash the towels in the shared washing machines downstairs. I never use the elevator, even though our studio apartment is located at the top floor. So early in the morning, around 6 am, there is no one around the space where the washing machines are.
I took a slow shower, staying there a few extra minutes. I don't use soap on my face and body any more, so I enjoy simply being there with beautiful, fresh and safe water. I made a cup on tea and enjoyed it together with the sun rays.
Between 7 and 10 am, I worked slowly. I usually start with responding to my fellow humans' emails. I don't write emails fast because I want to be fully present with what I write. I want to manifest gentleness and care in my emails. Apart from the emails, I sketched some thoughts for my piece on slow living.
Between 10 and 11 am, my partner and I decided to walk to a health store and a supermarket. We chose a long way through the park. The weather was magical and many fellow humans were out enjoying the sun. There is so much to notice and enjoy when you walk! Many trees are still blooming, people smile, the crust of fresh bread in bakeries looks so comforting and delicious. As we were walking, I was thinking about the pace of the modern life. I was also thinking that we could simply order everything we needed online. We avoid online shopping as much as possible because it contributes to a sense of busyness ("I am so busy, I have no time to get it myself from a store!"). We could also go to one of the supermarkets near the heath shop, but we went to one further away because it would entail a wonderful walk through a park. On the way, we got scones and bread from a local bakery.
In the supermarket, we took our time to choose the vegetables we came there for. We shop slowly because we look for unpackaged vegetables and check where they come from. We also try to buy vegetables that have uneven shapes and that fellow humans would probably be less likely to buy.
I was observing how walking and thinking were intertwining. My partner and I work together and often write together. As we were walking, we were sharing so many ideas and giving each other feedback on our works.
We had a late lunch at 1:30 pm. For lunch, we had houmous, vegetables, and bread. Having food together is sacred for us, and we do it as often as we can and very slowly. After lunch, we returned to writing. I received reviewers' comments on one of my articles. I read them slowly and carefully. It was heart-warming to read their comments.
At around 4 pm, we went to get some ice-cream from a local ice-cream store and sit in the park. We were discussing all the things we would have been doing if we didn't live a slower and simpler life. Perhaps we'd be going to a gym, some networking events that we are oftentimes invited to (but never attend). We would be attending workshops, classes and so on. But we don't. We spend much time with each other, with our local parks, with the place. We spend time on simple everyday activities like taking a shower, drinking tea, cooking, cleaning. We spend time on the things we love doing and that are parts of our professional life, such as reading and writing, preparing lectures.
Just before 6 pm, we decided to make dinner. For dinner, we made a salad and served it with fresh bread from the bakery and houmous that we also had for lunch. We were talking about life, what we value, and reading paragraphs from Walden, one of my favourite books.
At around 9 pm we made some tea and were watching a breathtakingly beautiful sunset. I was thinking about a popular saying "don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today". Most of my life it has somehow made sense to me, but the more I thought about it, the less it felt intuitively right. I feel that this mindset encourages fellow humans to not simply do what is important and sufficient for one day, but to put too much on our "to do" list, to increase our productivity. It seems to be especially so in our overproducing and ever busy society. I try to do only one important thing a day. I let myself contemplate tasks that are not urgent. I begin to realise that there are in fact not so many tasks that are genuinely urgent.
I fall asleep when it gets dark. Before I sleep, I like to simply sit and contemplate.