December 2005
Speed Trap!
Slow zones on the road of life
can be good for your health
By Bob McCray
Velocitize, a new word, means: “To cause a person to become used to a fast speed.” It refers to automobile drivers who have trouble slowing down when they come off the tollway and hit a country road. They are velocitized.
But in our hurry-up society, the word could apply to anyone. With deadlines at work and multi-tasking at home, people can be velocitized, on autopilot — like NASCAR drivers going around in circles, faster and faster — getting nowhere.
I was mulling over how “rush” is programmed into our lives while driving to work on I-294 one day. As kids, we hurried to get on our snow boots for school. When we got there, we rushed through our multiplication tables so we could run out to gym class. Later on it was finishing all the SAT questions on time. Then, at work, we learn the hare always beats the tortoise.
Our high-speed lifestyle — fast cars, fast food, instant coffee, high-speed modems — is ingrained. Meanwhile — from what I read — stress from constant hurrying is bad for your health.
Cars were zipping along I-294 that day, when I hit a “Slow — Men Working” zone.
The slow zone had been there a week. I was aggravated for three days, but after that, I enjoyed it. Instead of life-in-the-fast-lane, I was doing 45 mph; other drivers were doing 45; even some trucks were doing 45.
In fact, the experience was so comfortable, I wondered if there were other slow zones — on the road of life.
Of course, spirituality, meditation, and living “in the moment” are among the cures for “hurry disease.” But I wondered — while trying to change my priorities (with mixed results) — could I track down some personal slow zones — places, times, or people that cut down the whiz automatically — like pressing the button on my cordless drill?
Absorbing Nature
“The exceeding beauty of the earth, in her splendor of life yields a new thought with every petal. The hours when the mind is absorbed by beauty are the only hours when we really live, so that the longer we stay among these things so much more is snatched from inevitable time.” — Richard Jeffries, English author/naturalist
For me, nature’s beauty makes time stand still. In Colorado, where we visit our daughters, one mountain resort town announces an annual “Gapers Alert,” reminding residents about stop-and-stare tourists (hikers and bikers) who obstruct mountain trails.
You can tell gapers by their eyes. When they see a beautiful scene, their jaws drop, their eyes widen, their hands fall to their sides and they stare, timelessly floating in space, without speaking. My wife asks, “Is everything OK?”
I’m a gaper (off trail); actually, a macro-gaper. I like the big picture, like Independence Pass near Aspen, Colo. As Ansel Adams said, “A huge granite mountain cannot be denied. It speaks to the very core of your being.” My wife is a micro-gaper, enjoying tiny wildflowers bordering a forest trail.
For close-to-home scenic show stoppers, my wife and I always skip the Edens Expressway (55 mph) and take Forestway Drive through beautiful Skokie Lagoons. We tour Wisconsin’s back roads rather than expressways, and pay $10 more for a room with a view.
The Water Element
“As long as I live, I’ll hear waterfalls and birds, and winds sing … and get as near the heart of the world as I can.” — John Muir
An automatic “decelerator” for many is being near a waterfall, a lake, or rushing water. Niagara Falls attracts 14 million annual visitors just on the Canadian side. Kayaking and rafting have increased 47 percent in the last five years. People are drawn to falling water, or what John Muir called the “music of the water.” (“Waterfall” products include CDs, videos, and indoor water gardens.)
For me, the soothing sounds, smells, and spray of a waterfall are hypnotic — whether it’s Bridal Veil at Yosemite in California, Amnicon Falls in Wisconsin, the Chicago River waterfall (at the North Shore Channel confluence), Waterfall Glen in Darien, or the Botanic Garden “falls” in Glencoe. The tiny waterfall in our backyard attracts flocks of birds and butterflies.
A friend who bicycle-commutes on the lakefront bike path says the ride home from work past crashing waves calms him down. And who doesn’t sing in the shower?
Years back, we had an engineer neighbor who came from Europe. He believed that negative ions from falling water created a feeling of well-being, and built a waterfall off his garage roof. It spilled into a homemade pool where he and his wife floated on an inflatable raft. (He also used an ion machine for allergies.)
He mentioned that ion generators were used in WWII Luftwaffe planes and in European hospitals. Michael Norden, M.D., in his book Beyond Prozac (1995), explained the theory behind the negative ion effect: High numbers of ions present around falling water may improve mood and promote healing. I’m curious to read some of the studies on the effect of negative ions on “winter blues,” learning, and stress. In Japan, “minus ion” producing products have included air conditioners, hair dryers, and table lamps.
The Healthy Hearth
“Home is where the hearth is.” — Anonymous
During a three-day power outage several winters ago, we savored our fireplace — the blazing, crackling logs, yellow-blue flames licking up the chimney, shadows dancing on the wall, and the emotional warmth. A fireside can be the ultimate oasis of serenity. You can just “be” for hours, until the last twisting knots of smoke riffle up the chimney. The hearth is the family magnet at our daughter’s mountain cabin in Colorado — not for MP3 or video games — but charades and singing.
I’d like to learn of scientific evidence for a “hearth effect.” Some hospitals, for example, provide fireplaces in their waiting rooms, guest lounges, and cafeterias to help create a patient-centered healing environment. The “Holiday Survival Guide” of a Michigan health-care center mentions a study in which people who watched a tropical fish aquarium experienced a drop in blood pressure, suggesting a fireplace may have the same effect. To soothe Russian soldiers suffering combat stress from the Chechnya war, “Psychological First Aid Tents” included a video salon with videos of a fireplace and classical music. A stress-reduction video of a Christmas hearth is used in various U.S. treatment centers.
Your Intuition
“If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.” — Henry David Thoreau
I suspect there are many universal slow zones — listening to music, vacations, stroking a pet, or tea-and-empathy with a friend — but others are personal.
For me, vacuuming is a “develocitizer.” (My wife doesn’t believe me.) Maybe it’s from childhood. Harvey Karp, a pediatrician and author of The Happiest Baby on the Block, suggests that babies in the womb experience loud noises, and one of his “five steps” for calming a crying baby includes trying the sound of the vacuum, which approximates that white noise of the womb.
Another personal slow zone is shopping with my wife at the mall.
In one poll, 42 percent of the women said shopping reduced stress. Men are different. In Scotland, for example, a shopping center provided an escort service for women whose husbands don’t like to shop. It was called the “Shopping Boyfriend.” The escorts converse enthusiastically during the shopping expedition and compliment the women on their figures.
But I enjoy — and zone out — shopping with my wife. I have no responsibility, but I have value. I’m company.
My wife talks to me as if I know the difference between fabrics. I don’t. She thinks I know things go with things; like mauve goes with puce. I couldn’t pick out “mauve” if you put a gun to my head. When she picks one skirt over another, I nod as if I understand. I don’t. Meanwhile, the sights, sounds, and smells in the store are mesmerizing.
One day at a fancy department store, while my wife shopped, I sat in a leather chair by a grand piano, and with the hum of the cash registers and tinkle of wind chimes quickly dozed off.
I jumped a foot when the ear-splitting chords of a piano concerto did a root canal on my brain. Jarred out of my trance, I looked in every direction before spotting the now upraised grand piano. Next to me, an old gentleman was snoring in another chair. We were the “audience” — two curmudgeons slumped in leather chairs, sleeping through Beethoven.
The pianist, in a tuxedo, had a look on his face: “Once Carnegie Hall, now this.”
Another store provides folding chairs near the entrance, where husbands sit grim-lipped, arms crossed, listening to the ominous buzz of the charge-card machines. Blissfully, my wife has her own charge card.
The Power of The Pause
“Much may be done in those shreds and patches of time, which most men throw away.” — Caleb Colton, English clergyman
Personal slow zones don’t have to be for extended time periods. Short pauses or “speed bumps” will do.
Herbert Benson, cardiologist and author of The Relaxation Response, published The Breakout Principle. He suggests that when a person has “hit the wall” on some grueling task or problem, a “break” that severs prior thought patterns can trigger “Eureka moments ” brilliant flashes of insight. New brain-scan technology can trace the release of nitric oxide when this occurs. (Housework and needlepoint are mentioned as “triggers.”)
Classical pianist Artur Schnabel said, “The notes I handle no better than many pianists. But the pauses between notes, that is where the art lies.” Friends have confided their unique “pauses.” A psychologist takes a shower, completely changes clothes, puts on fresh cologne, and emerges a “new man.” A college administrator plays the oboe. A speech teacher sorts laundry to help her sort out her problems.
The Gift of Time
“A place for everything, and everything in its place.” — Isabella Beaton, English domestic science writer
Order reduces rush. I glued “drawer dividers” in my messy nightstand drawer to reduce the watch/pen/comb hunt every morning. Now I can find everything with my eyes shut. For years, we’ve jousted for our coats in a hall closet with no light fixture. The electrician changed our lives.
In high school I learned checklists save time. We drove 400 miles to Wisconsin’s Bois Brule River, dropped in our canoe, and returned to the car for the paddles. They were back home.
But checklists can be obsessive, so embed at least one goofy task in your list. I include a line from the psychiatrist on TV’s MASH: “Ladies and gentleman take my advice, pull your pants down and slide on the ice.”
Nehru said, “Life is like a game of cards …” If so, you need to know what to discard. Hint: American households on average watch nearly eight hours of TV a day; the average American spends seven years of his life watching TV.
Dr. Andrew Weil in his book Eight Weeks to Optimum Health suggests going on a “news fast” skipping one day of news every week until after eight weeks you don’t watch any news. Then decide how much news you need.
After the presidential election, I had “news burnout” and dropped watching all but necessary TV news. I now have 10 extra hours of “time on my hands” every week for classical guitar and Spanish lessons.
Roll Models: Some U.S. cities have introduced the “Pace Car Program.” Residents sign a pledge to always drive the posted speed limit and display a “pace car” sticker. Drivers are known as “mobile speed bumps,” and may also display bumper stickers like, “Honk if you want me to slow down,” or “my other car’s a cop car.” Members get discounts from businesses.
Wouldn’t it be interesting if in our velocitized culture, someone began a “Pace Person” program to slow down the rat race, with T-shirts that have quotes such as this gem from Bertrand Russell: “The time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time.”
Bob McCray writes slowly, in longhand, on a yellow pad, while his cat Zoey snores on the arm of his easy chair. He is a communications teacher and writer, and lives with his wife in Evanston.
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