What are you rushing past that needs your attention?
The underrated medicine of dwelling deeply in your own life
For those whom have landed here from my piece A Rationalists’ Guide to Manifestation—welcome. Sometimes, my writing flows like that piece did: instructive, axiomatic, robust, distilled. Other times, my writing will take you more tenderly into my own mind as I unravel a tangle within myself that feels relevant to a universal human experience. If the manifestation guide was closer to the former, this piece is closer to that latter format. If you like both of these essays, I expect you will enjoy more to come. It is wonderful to have you here.
The last couple weeks I have experienced a strange repulsion to the internet. Whenever I open one of my devices, and my fingers habitually drift towards the places where I tend to consume and share content, I feel a subtle internal flinch. It’s as though everything that comes through these slot machines of randomness and algorithmic optimization appear as a sort of beige paste, tugging at my consciousness but seemingly unable to grasp it.
I have remained curious towards this repulsion. I have let it guide me towards what bids for my attention outside of the screens: writing, walking, knitting, reading, baking, exercising, time with friends and family, dwelling more deeply in my own home, tending carefully to what is needed. I have noticed such joy, such relief in simply making things with my hands, returning to the raw materials of my own physical reality. It evokes this feeling of fuelling a fiery hearth inside of me that withers into no more than a flickering ember when I don’t give it its oxygen: solitude, quiet, time without screens.
I have also noticed another emotion that has intrigued me: a subtle but persistent grade of guilt for doing things that take a lot of time.
Am I really going to sit here knitting this hat that will take tens of hours when I could be doing X, Y, or Z productive thing?
This constant pressure to be doing more remains, humming with a persistence that is dulled but not eliminated by choosing to engage with slower ways of being.
the ceaseless pull towards More
I find it interesting how there lives inside me a constant engine, endlessly hungry for leverage and opportunity, quietly battling the part of me that needs space to feel, to be, to heal, and to return home to myself. As someone who generally tries to take life slower, to notice and create beauty, to connect to the raw materials of my life, it makes me wonder about the standard relationship we all have to this tension between urgent-intense-doing and allowing-relaxing-being.
Things you notice, reach for, and capture when you’re moving slower.
Tune into the season you are in
In a Rationalist’s Guide to Manifestation, I wrote about how getting what you want out of life is about striking a balance between action, doing, and leaning into momentum, while also relaxing enough to create the internal spaciousness to notice and allow things to happen, without your will.
The nuance here is that sometimes you don’t know why something is ‘happening to you’. It might feel misaligned with what you want, or at least it is hard to draw a linear connection between the event that is unfolding, or the feeling you are feeling and the desire you are trying to cultivate. In these moments, it is tempting to avoid what is happening, to force a different outcome or feeling into existence. But what I have learned is that the resistance we create by trying to force forward motion when our being is imploring us to slow down and rest—to simply experience what we are experiencing—creates more turmoil than just allowing yourself to pause for a moment.
When we exert and force things too much, we get sick. Or we exhaust ourselves to the point of dysfunction. Or we create unnecessary conflict in relationships. We act out, because we are not listening. When we are listening, we know exactly what to do (and what not to do.) When we get too attached to what we think the process needs to look like—when we get too obsessed with our desires that we disconnect from what is happening in the present moment—we have gone too far.
How do you know when you have gone too far?
Well, how do you feel? Are you exhausted, tired, physically drained, resenting and resisting things in your life that you usually feel love or at least neutrality towards? This is often a sign you are thinking too much, doing too much, and not slowing down enough to notice what you actually need—and granting it to yourself with care.
yearning for the grandmother archetype
I find myself thinking of the grandmother archetype lately. The woman who moves slowly, who tends to her home, her projects, her loved ones. The woman who is not in a rush. The woman who is not trying so hard to make something of herself, who is willing to just be. The woman who lives with a certain devotion and appreciation for what she already has.
I feel remarkably connected to this energy lately. Perhaps it is because I had a couple of hard weeks emotionally. Waves of grief and loss rising in my emotional center for the first time in a while, making the typical high-stimulus materials in my life feel nauseating. My body physically reacting at the thought of engaging with them. All I wanted was to rest, walk, be alone, read, knit, bake, cook, and spend time with family. All I wanted was a hug from my grandmother.
But what is a hug from your grandmother?
What is this energy that these stewards of love, peace and seemingly infinite comfort appear to carry? To me, it is the stillness of pure presence, of wisdom, of deep understanding and a focus on what truly matters. That quiet, tranquil acceptance that creates a blanket of love around everything. The tender, abundant love that gives us permission to disconnect from the urgent, and to drift towards what truly matters.
Balancing ambition (reaching) with presence (accepting)
I saw this graph below, after watching this clip with founder of Whole Foods, John Mackey, on David Senra’s podcast, saying he would trade his entire fortune to have just one more dinner with his parents.
This graph offers interesting food for thought, to reflect on where our minds go at the beginning and end of our lives, particularly around money, ambition, and material desires. Though there is something somewhat inevitable and un-opinionated about this graph (if I just stopped thinking about money, I might not be enjoying many of the great comforts I currently enjoy, such as the couch I am sitting on and the keyboard I am using inside of the warm home I am tucked into.) Generally speaking, I find this graph to be nothing but true. It doesn’t bother me that we need to think about money to generate it. It doesn’t bother me that I need to provide a beautiful life for myself in order to live one. I feel lucky, actually, that all of this opportunity exists for me to realize—that if I am clever and creative enough, I can have anything I want.
when progress is simply not the point
But there are these moments, like the ones I’ve had the last few weeks, where the thought of progress and ambition, and going full speed towards everything I want feels almost nauseatingly Not The Point. Moments where all I want is to cuddle into my grandmother as she kisses my cheek extra hard and tells me it’s all going to be okay. Moments where I want time to momentarily stop, to not have to turn on a screen, to simply bake and read and think and feel, as I turn my attention towards my internal world, and away from everything outside of it.
The thing is: I can have that, if I want it. I can more or less make time stop—not all the time, but occasionally, for a little bit of time, if I want to. I can log off of the digital world and log back onto my real one. Replacing the screens with what takes time, attention and energy to create.
We remember ourselves in the pause
And in these acts of making something, of knitting my hat, of baking my pistachio buns, of producing yet another loaf of sourdough, of lighting my candles and filling my home with flowers and doing yoga in my living room, I remember my humanity. I remember my heart beating loudly, fiercely in my chest, always there for me to listen if I choose to tune into it. I remember my own mind, my own thoughts, my own indifference to all the bullshit I read on the internet. I remember my body. It’s constant willingness to move, walk, dance, stretch. And, of course, I remember to rest. I remember how to rest. I remember what true rest feels like. Not the kind where you are pulling the screen away from your eye balls and feeling zapped after, hardly a spark of life force still kicking. Not that at all. I’m talking about true rest. Real rest. Where you have gently wound your energy down, where you can think your own thoughts, hear your own breath. Where you have given yourself what you need. That unique kind of rest that comes from truly taking care of yourself.
We are cyclical beings; we don’t always need to rest like this (the fear that if we let ourselves fully rest, we may never not want to get back up is, ironically, what keeps us from ever feeling fully energized). But when we do require this deep rest, a hearty pause from the noise of modern life, we must grant it to ourselves. Else, our energy never fully crests into its peaks again. We never fully reclaim that ferocity and hunger and the drive we love to occupy. The rest, the pause, the offline, grandmother archetype acting out her wisdom within all of us, knows what we need when life gets too noisy.
Notice the pull towards a pause, and allow it
When we feel ourselves flinching at the screens, retreating from symbols of ambition and progress, it is often just a sign we need to step away. To swim in the ocean or hike in the snow or climb a mountain (or bake pistachio cardamom buns a la early girl.) A sign that we are forgetting ourselves, and that we would like to return to ourselves, away from the screens. Away from the constant engines of randomness that wish to make us increasingly dependent on them, and less dependent on ourselves.
the pause reveals what comes next
Here’s what I’ve learned about these moments of slowness: if I let them through, if I pause the Doing and let the Being take precedence, even for a short time, I can reclaim my peace quite quickly. I can feel what I need to feel, and move forward. I can notice what I am resisting, and face it. I can see what I have been rushing past, annd accept it. And then, I can let it all go. When I resist the pause, however, I send myself in circles: never feeling fully rested and never feeling fully energized. Never quite unlocking the productive energy that feels rewarding, and never quite slowing down enough to properly recharge. When I deny the pause, I keep myself from blooming.
The medicine of dwelling deeply in your own life
We are being swept into a rapidly changing world, with plenty of factors outside of our control. To focus ceaselessly on these factors over which we have no influence, is to willingly surrender our power over what we can control. The more we dwell in our own lives, letting our needs, desires, and feelings be our compass, the greater the well-being we can reach within ourselves, and the more we can be of service to the world.
If you have a moment to pause after reading this, perhaps you put down your screen for a moment. Perhaps you can look around and ask: What needs tending? What demands to be picked up? Used? Thrown away? Made into something? Created? What exists in your life that you genuinely want to get to, but ‘haven’t had the space for’ because of how all-consuming life can feel? Can you pause and face these bids for your attention? Can you look away from what is far beyond you, and return to the present? Can you reconnect with the raw materials of your own life? Can you take a deep breath, and place your attention softly on what is right under your nose?
1:1 Coaching
I work 1:1 with individuals who wish to identify their blind spots, clarify their desires, and step into their own becoming. This path involves finding the right balance of drive, ambition and action with presence, awareness and inner-alignment. If this could be aligned for you, apply to work with me here. I will reach out with more details if there could be a fit.
Related essays you might enjoy:
slow down, one thing at a time, take care of yourself (actually though), on self-trust, on slowness, taste & living well, on being selective, the mind is a trap
Upcoming Writing
I will be writing more about how to reconnect to yourself, stay true to your desires, and get what you want while remaining present, healthy and aligned. If you want to continue receiving essays in this series, stay subscribed, comment your questions, and share any reflections and thoughts you have on these topics.
What is returning you home to yourself these days and helping you reconnect to your real life when the digital one gets too noisy?
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Thank you for this reflection Isabel. Small typo in one of your links: you wrote, “A Rationalist’s Guide to Meditation”. I think Meditation-> Manifestation is what you were looking for!
This rings so true. I deal with the incessant urge to be productive, say “fuck my feelings,” and just continue on even though my body and the brain fog that can’t be ignored tell me otherwise. I injured myself a couple of months ago and this had forced me to slow down, at least as it related to physical activity (which is obviously important), but I’m having to find other ways to spend that time without turning to screens and mindless scrolling.
On a separate note, no idea if you know this but Chris Williamson mentioned you on Modern Wisdom which is super cool and is how I ended up finding you!