The Art of Slowing Down: What Relearning Cursive Taught Me

 

When my kids were starting elementary school, way back when, I was excited for them to learn cursive and to have the opportunity myself to relearn the letters that I was never good at making and having them flow in a series of beautifully curved lines. I imagined getting those lined pieces of paper and practicing one letter over and over and gradually connecting them in a word. It never happened.

At the time, it saddened me to learn that writing in cursive is no longer taught in public school. I also thought I would have the chance to improve my basic math skills and relearn history which long ago left my memory. I think the information was only temporarily there for each test, but none of it sank in deeper. As an adult, I would actually be interested in history now (math not so much), but this, too, never happened. I'm not sure what I was thinking. When did I imagine sitting down with them and doing this? 

That's not the case anymore. I actually have the time to do these things. So this past December when I walked through a local gift store with a friend and found a book for adults to learn or relearn how to write in cursive I bought it for myself. Through the winter nights, before I went to bed, I would spend time with those ready made lines working on one letter at a time. The uppercase letters that stumped me as a child stumped me again now. What unexpectedly delighted me about this practice was that it is truly a mindful practice. It requires that I slow down and stay with the pen on the paper. The more concentrated I am, the more elegant the letters turn out.  It also proved to be a helpful before sleep activity. 

Now when I write in my journal planning an exercise for A Mindful Life, I try to write solely in cursive, not the mixed-up form I was using. It still slows me down and keeps me in the process rather than hurrying to get to the end of the word or sentence. I feel the flow of the word. The practice is meeting me at just the right time as I relearn the art of just being  --  the way young kids get absorbed in what they are doing and aren't trying only to achieve something. Even though I am trying to capture my thoughts in words on paper, I can enjoy the act of doing it. I am also learning about the part of me that struggles to not know how to do something -- and to not be in such a hurry to get it right. Once I get it "right" what then, anyway?

My invitation this summer is to choose an activity that you must deliberately slow down and be present to do. Something that keeps you in a process and gently asks you to stay. It could be an art form, maybe in movement, a craft or hobby. It might simply be reading a novel, but reading it in such a way that savors each descriptive sentence rather than trying to get to the end to know what happens. It doesn't have to require a lot of time. I spent about 10 minutes in bed a night with my letters. See what you learn from it. Let yourself open to the spaciousness that comes when you sink into something fully.

We don't want to rush to the end in life. We can strengthen the muscle that stays in the process and in the moment. Everything today works against this way of being, so know that it will take deliberate action to do it, just the same way it takes intention to practice meditation. We set aside the time and show up. Life starts to feel different from the usual striving and the belief that we need to get somewhere. If we have nowhere to get to, we live in the present. 

Warmly,
Jean

P.S. One major piece that gets in the way of being in the present moment with whatever we are doing is our phones. I am thinking of facilitating a month long book group/workshop based on the updated version of How To Break Up With Your Phone by Catherine Price. We would meet once a week with the intention of changing our relationship to our smart phones and devices. If you don't like the way you are attached to your phone and the habits that have been formed, let me know of your interest and I will see what I can create. Send me an email here. I know so many people don't like the way life has become due to these devices. I do believe we can change it and it would be a lot more fun to explore it together (even if you read the first version when it came out in 2018).

When Calm Becomes Your New Normal: Noticing the Shift

 

It used to be that I would arrive at my studio after getting the kids off to school and knowing I needed to shift gears, I would take the walk from my car in the parking lot to the front door slowly. It was a way my nervous system could know that I could let go and relax more. The kids were where they needed to be and I was where I needed to be and all was okay. Those steps were in such contrast to everything else that went on in the morning prior to arriving. They felt gently resetting. Once inside, having the chance to meditate felt like the next deeper layer of moving out of what often felt like overwhelm. It was so nice to feel the change. This sounds odd to say and more odd to notice, but I don’t feel that anymore. Most days, the contrast is no longer there to feel. I don’t start out in overwhelm. How weird to say, but I miss that feeling of “ahhh”, of relief. 

I noticed something similar when I stopped being a massage therapist a few years ago. Back then I would get a pedicure and sit in the massage chair and bask in the feeling of the automated flapping and kneading. I never understood why some women next to me wouldn't use the feature on their chair. For me it was a treat for my tired back muscles. But now that I don’t do that kind of manual labor, when I get a pedicure, I put on all the same chair settings and it doesn’t produce the same kind of bliss. At first I thought maybe I was going numb. 

So what is happening and what does it mean in terms of my practice if I can no longer feel these deep shifts in my state of being?

I’m not sure I have the answer yet, but ultimately, I think it is a good thing that my nervous system isn’t so desperate to feel calm. It’s not that I never rush or make myself late – sometimes I do, but it’s not the norm anymore as it was for so many years. Thankfully, that level of cortisol pumping through me on a regular basis is just not there. What hasn’t changed is my worrying mind. The stress of my thoughts has yet to make such a dramatic shift. I am embracing that this is where my next level of “work” lies and it is actually exciting to recognize.

I started making progress last week when I saw how much I was “adding on” to whatever thoughts arose and how I can so easily make a story out of something that isn’t factually true. I started catching it and saying, “stop believing the story that you just created, Jean.” I’ve been trying to state facts instead and letting go of the rest. It’s not easy and it doesn’t seem to let up, but it feels more empowering than worrying. And of course, a loving voice helps – to bring compassion to the fear. 

My invitation this week is first to notice what changes you have made where your nervous system doesn’t get as taxed over things as it did in the past. It’s worthy of recognition. I can’t say how many people in my A Mindful Life groups point out how much they have changed over the years. It’s really important to notice so that our brains take in the difference. 

The second invitation is to be honest in seeing what hasn’t yet changed in terms of your stress levels and see if there is a willingness to go there and be proactive in doing something different. What would it look, feel, sound like? 

The first invitation will help the second one know it is possible. We need to feel successful to keep moving in a direction. The only way to feel successful in the realms of our own stress management is to note when it changes. No one else can do that for us. So give yourself credit when you recognize that maybe you don’t rush so much anymore, or you used to be itching to get up when you meditated and now you can stay still, or you used to be angry more of the time. These are big shifts. And then… welcome the next step, the more advanced course and embrace the challenge. Why? Because it will give you the next level of “ahhhh”.

Happy June to you!

Jean