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Slow Forward, Day 21 - On We Go

3/5/2023

Twenty-one stories ago I decided I wanted to look at the idea of gentleness as it related to processing my knee surgery. I gave my theme the name Slow Forward. Since then, Slow Forward as an idea unto itself has been morphing, slowly and gently, into the way I want to continue to live my life. I don’t want to be that person who takes on too much anymore. I have finally, truly, learned to say “no.” Or, better, to say “yes” only to that which gives me joy. Marie Kondo for my mind instead of my things.

This journey we’ve undertaken together has wound me through memories I didn’t think would connect with the present as well as through fresh surgical healing. My eyes and heart have been opened to new ways of thinking about the past and how it affects my current situation. I thank you for taking this ride with me, and for the kind thoughts, affirmations, and valuable comments so many of you have shared along the way. Through them I’ve learned again the value of being publicly vulnerable in setting myself free of old thinking.

I’ve realized that if I try to rush the regaining of trust, I will set myself back. I did go down to the woods last weekend to see the owl tree and the dry creek, and it will be a while before my knee says it’s a good idea to do that again. It was a lot. That’s all right. Slow Forward.

Somewhere during the last month, the poem below found me on my Facebook feed. I’ve been saving it to share with you today as a summation. I had a poster of a turtle crawling by a vase of flowers with the Mahatma Gandhi quote “There’s more to life than increasing its speed,” on my wall in college. Even then, I knew my propensities to do too much. Too bad it took me more than forty years to take Gandhi’s advice. It’s perfect that the quote showed up here:

Slow Me Down
By Wilferd Arlan Peterson

Slow me down
Ease the pounding of my heart
by the quieting of my mind.
Steady my hurried pace
with a vision of the eternal reach of time.

Give me, amid the confusion of the day,
the calmness of the everlasting hills.
Break the tension of my nerves and muscles
with the soothing music of the singing streams
that live in my memory.

Help me to know
the magical restoring power of sleep.
Teach me the art of taking minute vacations,
of slowing down to look at a flower,
to chat with a friend,
to pat a dog,
to read a few lines of a good book.

Remind me each day of the fable
of the hare and the tortoise,
that I may know that the race is not always to be swift.
That there is more to life than increasing its speed.

Let me look upward into the branches of the towering oak,
and know that it grew great and strong
because it grew slowly and well.

Slow me down and inspire me to send my roots
deep into the soil of life's enduring values.
That I may grow toward the stars
of my greater destiny.

Blessings to you on your journeys forward, however fast or slow they may go.

A vintage print of my 1970's poster, being sold on Ebay for $45.

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Slow Forward, Day 20 - The Dry Creek

3/3/2023

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If I want to center and ground myself, I need to get outside. I need my feet on the earth and to slowly settle into the natural world.

I’ve known this about myself for a long time, but it really came home during the pandemic, when the only place to “go” other than another room in my house was out in the woods. In the last 3-4 years I have thoroughly explored the full 5-acre property we live on, finding the boundary lines with the park.

The dry creek called to me for years, but I thought that the hill was simply too steep. I was afraid of sliding down into the rocks that line the hillside. In 2020 I finally hiked over into the preserve far enough to discover a way down to the creek that was gently rolling, and incidentally, full of chanterelle mushrooms in summer. From there, I can wind my way back along the stream to the bottom of my property.

The view there is stunning. In the early spring it’s full of ferns and jack in the pulpit. Next come the native azaleas, with their gorgeous pink and white blooms.

In summer it turns into a native grassland, and the mud which forms when the creek dries is full of deer and racoon prints. Looking up at the large boulders which frame our backyard is a completely different experience from walking on them above. I like to think of the Cherokee they sheltered a hundred or more years ago.

There’s a convenient tree with huge roots that grow along the ground to sit on. It really is “my spot.” When I need peace or a quiet place to think, or if I just want to observe the forest, this is where I go.

I haven’t been able to be down there comfortably since early last summer. Then, the native azaleas were spectacular, and I had to go, albeit very carefully. On that walk, I meandered a long way along the creek and realized I’d missed a good spot to cross over. I put my hand on a dead and rotting tree that lined the creek for support, and suddenly heard an incredible racket over my head. It was the Barred Owl we often hear in the evenings while sitting on the porch. I realized with a start that I’d found the owl’s nesting spot. So sorry, friend.

Over the next couple of weeks, I returned to a rock a respectable distance and an easy walk away with binoculars to watch mama owl sitting on the nest, which was at the top of the tall dead stump. I was lucky enough to be there the day the baby owl hatched, and watched the eggshell be pushed out of the nest. After that, I was less inclined to walk down there and disturb the young family.

I hope to go down this weekend and see if that tree is still standing, and if the owls have returned. The Phoebes are nesting under our screen porch and Carolina wrens are shoving their messy piles of leaves and twigs into every crevice they can find around the deck area. It’s that time of year.

As the pace of life picks up for both people and birds, I know where to find my Slow Forward. Now that my knee is healed, I can’t wait to get back there.

All photos property of Robbin Marcus.

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Slow Forward, Day 19 - Jumping the Gun

3/2/2023

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My choir class in the music room, 2007.

“I know! I know!” A room full of wiggling students all have their hands up. I hold a large wooden musical staff on my lap. We’re working on note names. I call on one of the ones who is not too noisy, and he says, “F! G! A!” None of those are correct. In the early 2000s my colleagues at the school and I were noticing a disturbing trend. Students seemed propelled by some invisible force to raise their hands and quickly give back inaccurate answers. They weren’t taking the time to think the question through, to test hypotheses in their own minds before deciding to answer.

No one could say for sure what was causing this, but we suspected that it might be all the educational video games parents were purchasing in those days. Players were rewarded for answering quickly and encouraged to beat their own times in subsequent games. It reminded me of Pavlov’s dog. They were conditioned by these games to react as quickly as possible.

As an Alexander Technique teacher, I was interested in exploring if I could break this habit in my own elementary school music classroom.

The next time we did note identification, I told the children that I would give them the question, but before they could raise their hands, I would slowly count to five by raising one finger at a time on my hand. If they absolutely knew the correct answer at the end of the 5 counts, they could raise their hand.

Introducing this pause worked wonders. Suddenly, the accuracy level of the entire class increased dramatically. I started doing this in my classroom for every question I asked. I wanted to teach my students to pause, to think, to respond instead of react. After a couple of weeks, we talked about it in the fourth-grade classes where my older students were. I asked them how they felt when they tried it. “I felt calmer, because I had time to think of the answer.” “It was weird not to just be able to shout out something.” “I liked it because I’m quiet and it gave me a chance to answer, too.”

These students are now in their early 20s. Just last week I learned that a child I taught in kindergarten that year shot 2 people in Baltimore. Every time I hear about a mass shooting executed by a young person of that age, I think of my experiment and the impetus behind it. What did we do to that generation by teaching them to just react? What examples are we setting for the ones that follow? Where is the time to pause, to inhibit our reactions, to respond differently? Who is teaching children to slow down?

As I think back, I believe this is the first time the concept of Slow Forward began to take shape for me. Rooted in Alexander Technique, nurtured by years of teacher training and classroom wisdom, all while feeling the discontent of hurrying in my own life.

Just for today, I encourage you to try it. When someone asks you a question, pause and silently count to five. Then, see what comes up for your answer.

For more information on Alexandrian inhibition, read my blog post here.

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Slow Forward, Day 18 - The "Slow Forward" Paradox

3/1/2023

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It’s no secret that teachers are struggling. When I was a teacher, making a huge 5 figures a year, I often had to figure out how to make ends meet. For a long time in my early career, I held a second job. Today we read about teachers who drive for Uber or wait tables on the weekends instead of getting the rest they need. Teacher’s salaries have not risen enough to cover their housing and food costs. It’s well-documented how difficult teaching has become in the US where we worry about being shot daily while learning our ABCs. Stress upon stress.

It’s not just teaching. Many people these days work more than one job. The work world dominates our lives, and most people can’t find a way off the merry-go-round. We’re expected to do more and more while our bodies cry out for less and less.

In a society where we are pushed to get ahead and encouraged to work ever harder, the idea of Slow Forward isn’t just an oxymoron, it’s also a paradox.

In my study over the years with Megan Macedo in these writing challenges and workshops I’ve attended, one theme is always clear – “Do the work only you can do.” By sharing our stories, by creating things that also make our hearts sing, we can do our true work. Our true work may look nothing like the corporate paradigm. If we do our true work, people find us and want to work with us. In a world where everything feels fake, people are deeply attracted to authenticity.

Slow Forward is the authentic expression of how I try to live my life now, even though, paradoxically, I’m a person who totally bought into fast and faster. After working as hard as I could for so many years, I know that’s not sustainable. For my sanity, slowing down and choosing only the work I want to do allows me to be my most authentic self. As a person who works part time, I have the luxury and privilege to do this at this point in my life.

I recognize that that is not possible for everyone.

Still, I encourage you, in whatever ways are available to you – take time for yourself. Go for an observation walk in the woods. Get out in a garden. Curl up with a good book. Take a nap or a bath. Meditate. Come have an Alexander Technique lesson with me. Whatever it is that can slow you down and provide you some self-care; put it on your calendar and prioritize it. It’s amazing how much clearer your true work will become.

The joy of an Alexander Technique lesson. Photo credit, Lorikay Photography

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Robbin Marcus

A new 21 weekday blog series on Slow Forward - gentleness with myself - will begin on Monday, February 5, 2023
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An occasional post from me, about stuff that interests me.

2023 blog series:
Slow Forward

2020 blog series:
1) Processing - Experience, Thought, Action
2) Diving for Light - Shedding light on a dark time

Slow Forward, Day 21 - On We Go

Slow Forward, Day 20 - The Dry Creek

Slow Forward, Day 19 - Jumping the Gun

Slow Forward, Day 18 - The "Slow Forward" Paradox

Robbin Marcus

2019 blog series: Exploring the Power of Habit

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2019 blog series:
Exploring the Power of Habit