I definitely do drive more slowly today than ever in my driving career. It’s probably saved me from a few wrecks and a few headaches in addition to all of the gas dollars. There again is one of those immeasurable impacts of a small change. So why is it so hard for most of us to make such a small change? Elizabeth says that it is wrapped up in the herd mentality of driving. “I keep the pace, I keep the peace.” None of us wants to do harm by tempting others into frustration or anger. None of us wants to be responsible for slowing everyone else down. It’s easier to just blend in.
But I think there’s more to it. I think, in our culture, our tendency to have tunnel vision is endemic. When you think about it, it’s wild how we talk ourselves out of change by talking ourselves into a mission – how we pat ourselves on the back for speeding through the yellow light because, well, we just can’t be late for the church flag football tournament. The team is counting on us, after all.
But when you’re in control of 5,000 pounds of sheet metal travelling at any speed, frustration or anger is not an organic response to being slowed down. Let’s face it: most of us who are frustrated in traffic have set ourselves up for it. We left too late, we planned our day poorly, or we simply elevated the destination above the lives that lie in our path.
I have the same kind of tunnel vision when I use my fancy “reward” credit card for everything I purchase. I act so proud about it, too, because “I just pay it off every month – I only do it to get the rewards!” Poppycock. It’d be easy to believe that we’re not paying more for almost everything today because of card processing fees, but I know better. Those fees get passed right on to you and me, to the consumer. A few cents there, a few dollars there… It’s masked by inflation, fluctuating commodity prices, and variable interest rates, but it’s still there. If everyone went back to using cash, I’d venture to say that the savings for consumers would add up to far more than the 1% “rewards” we’re reaping.
Still, without the false goal of “being rewarded” in mind, credit cards are convenient and traceable, and they allow me to conduct business easily in the virtual marketplace. These are features that I feel are worth paying for at the consumer level. But I still need to understand this trade and get real about it.
On the other hand, without the false goal of “not letting the team down” in mind, racing through stoplights is, at best, expedient. Do I even need to consider the worst? I’m not sure I’m even OK with expedient. Do I want to place myself in a position where I feel I must do whatever it takes to get there on time? No, I want to always do whatever is best to get there safely and at all, which probably means I simply need to manage my time better.
Do I still run late on occasion? Sure. Who doesn’t? Slowing down doesn’t fix life. And in those cases, I’ve learned that taking responsibility is the quickest way to shatter my tunnel vision. Step 1, I communicate with those affected. Step 2, I just get there. Turns out most people care more about me than about the immediate contribution of my presence. It’s humbling, after all this time, to finally realize that.
And there’s a message there, too, friends. The message is that when we rely on each other – when we cause each other to feel wanted or needed – we also tend to focus on the language of busyness, rather than the language of love. The language of busyness says, “I love what you do more than I love you,” while the language of love says, “I love you more than what you do.” It’s the language of busyness that leads us to tunnel vision – that leads us to believe, at our origin, that our roles, jobs, voices, or skills will determine the amount of acceptance or love we receive at our destination. That just shouldn’t be so. Yes, I’m talking to you, too, church: that just shouldn’t be so.
Still, I have to admit, the language of busyness can be useful, because almost everybody (everybody I know, anyways) seems to understand what it’s like to be busy. Whether or not I define busy the same way that you define busy, “I’m too busy” probably means the same thing to both of us. We can relate to each other at busyness, and it can help us say “no” to one another with grace. Perhaps that’s a little sad, perhaps not, but it’s helpful, nonetheless.
On the same token, the language of busyness is pretty revealing. For example, (here’s an important, practical lesson) when you’re speaking the language of busyness, you look like a complete and senseless idiot in your car. Why? Because the traffic signal is red! It's always red! When you're a mile away and it's green, that means when you get there, it's going to be red. If you speed past or around me to get to the red signal, we’re still both stuck at the same red signal. The only difference between us now (besides your stress level) is the way you wasted an extra quarter gallon of gas getting there!
The funny thing is that, when you putt-putt down the road for long enough, you begin to take notice of how many of those cars who zoom-zoom past you to the red signal end up zoom-zooming to the same place you are going. And you notice this because, about 80 percent of the time, you get there right when they do! Honestly!
You probably don’t believe me. I know. I used to think I was smarter and faster, too. I wouldn’t believe me either if I didn’t see it now on a daily basis. So, don’t take my word for it. Illogical speeding is a gesture of busyness that cannot be calculated properly by thinking about it or visualizing it – one must actually observe it. Seriously, if you do nothing else I’ve suggested, please commit one week to slowing down enough to experience the absurdity of our “I’ll-race-you-to-the-red-light” battle-cries for yourself. It’s eye-opening.
Personally, I find the whole scene to be a lot like looking into the mirror in the morning… it’s like seeing the disaster that is my hair, accompanied by a bright red pimple on the side of my nose and a piece of last night’s salad dangling from my lateral incisor. “All those times I’ve been in such a hurry,” I say to myself, “I must have looked like such a moron!” And, bless my precious little heart, it was all in the name of busyness.
It does take more than a few days to really soak this all up, but eventually, your subconscious mind will wrap itself around the truth, and when it does, you will begin to feel deeply embarrassed for yourself and all of humanity. And rightly so, because the truth is – the real lesson is – that all of our hurried, frantic, frustrated, and angry driving doesn’t really make us any faster at all. It can, but honestly, that happens rarely, at best. If anything, most of the time, all it does is make us feel busier. And the busier we feel, the busier we imagine we are. And the busier we imagine we are, the worse our tunnel vision is. I like how Calvin and Hobbes puts it:
I’ve learned a lot more, but I don’t need to write anything else at all. That comic pretty much says it all, doesn’t it? We all speak and understand the language of busyness, but sometimes we can act like a real idiots (especially in our cars), and we're probably not all that busy, anyways.
So, slow down (because we love you) and just arrive.
(comic from "The Days are Packed" by Bill Watterson, 1993)
I’ve learned a lot more, but I don’t need to write anything else at all. That comic pretty much says it all, doesn’t it? We all speak and understand the language of busyness, but sometimes we can act like a real idiots (especially in our cars), and we're probably not all that busy, anyways.So, slow down (because we love you) and just arrive.--kory // www.korywilcox.com(comic from "The Days are Packed" by Bill Watterson, 1993)
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