Homework

I love podcasts. There are many that I follow, and I want to listen to every new episode of each one, but for years, I was so busy. The times I had to listen were on my morning runs, a few minutes in the car here and there while doing chores like laundry or cleaning or sometimes cooking, although I prefer music and conversation for that. The obvious solution to wanting to get through more faster was to listen at accelerated speeds. I have a good friend and voracious consumer of information who listens to podcasts and books at double speed. That sounds like hectic gibberish to me, but I found over time that my brain caught up such that the speed that felt comfortable, where I felt I was not missing detail or tonality, was around 1.5x normal speed. And that’s what I did for years. This American Life, Criminal, The Moth, Radio Lab, and so many other favorites.

The other week, on a long drive with my daughter in the car, we decided to listen to Normal Gossip. She cued it up on her phone and hit play. The voices were hilariously sloow, looow, and draaawn out. The pauses were endless. I could hear every breath, every shift. It was so awkward! I waited for Mrabel to adjust the speed to something reasonable, but she was happily absorbed, listening. I realized that this was normal for her. That she always listens to things at their original speed. It sounded crazy to me, and I couldn’t understand why you would do that — we could listen to TWO podcasts if we went at my speed! But I didn’t say anything, just drove along, and listened.

And what happened is that I began to hear how much I have been missing. Just as video flattens and obscures affect, sped up recordings apparently flatten and obscure nuance. The voices were so warm. The timing was so expressive. Suddenly the little musical breaks in the recordings had meaning, rather than just being something to get through. I remembered that there is art in story telling, that jokes are all about timing, that it takes time to register meaning, and that meaning comes in more forms than the number of words you hear.

Slowing down my podcasts is just another way that I am working to adjust to my slower life. Just as the acceleration took time and habituation, it takes time to back down to normal speed. I have to re-train my brain to not chafe at the silences, to not be distracted by breathing. It is emblematic of this systemic shift I am trying to master. Listen, pay attention, breathe, inquire about what you want, and only act once you have gotten the answer.

And this is hard. Painfully hard. Those of you who know me well, know that I wouldn't be writing about this unless it was getting easier. For the past six weeks I have been chanting to myself “it will get better. It won’t stay like this. I just have to keep working on it.” This is my mantra, into this I put all my faith. It’s tenuous, it may not stay, but this week has felt almost good. Maybe I am learning how to be in this space in my life. Maybe, after trying every thing I knew how to do, I am finding something works for me.

It has been no small thing to fully step away from a career I loved and out of a four year relationship at exactly the same time. Because of its multi-factorial nature, it’s been hard to identify the origins of each specific pain. Am I feeling so bad because I am alone and the companionable domestic center of my life has disappeared? Am I feeling so bad because I have left work that I love, and the people I loved doing it with? Am I feeling so bad because I am looking into a future potentially without partnership? Yes and yes and yes, and all these things overlap and run into and twist around each other.

I have been studying the mechanics of well-being for decades. I know what works for me to elevate mood, if not to “be happy,” to create a sense of meaning, if not one of purpose, to nurture connections and relationships, even if there is no one assigned to me. I know what it takes to quiet the negative voices that pipe up, to foster gratitude and appreciation, to allow vulnerability. But all these arts require tenacity, and quiet and commitment, and . . . . they take time. I “know” the recipe will work, given a chance, but it is hard not to panic.

The instinct to flee is so strong. Go on a trip! Get a puppy! Get on the dating apps! But I have promised myself to sit in the stew, to tolerate the discomfort, to breathe through the despair until things clear. I am committed to cultivating the decisions and choices that I know will bring me the greatest return — to stay available and receptive until I find my focus organically — from the bottom up instead of throwing myself at a new challenge —a way of being that is so familiar to me, and that I am so good at.

So here I am again, to share my travels with anyone who’s interested. No pretty pictures to share, just the precious, imperfect, terrifying reality of the day.