What are you doing to slow down?

It is an unusual question. Have you been asked this before? Have you considered it in your daily life? Most folks do not actively think about slowing down, and to do so is contrary to everything that has value. No one wants a slower car, and the microwave tells us all we need to know about our desire to slow down in the kitchen. How about those handy time saving devices- food processor, ice maker, ice crusher, blender, dishwasher, etc. The presence of these devices in our lives informs the casual observer of our “need for speed”. The unbridled desire to get things done faster is all in the name of giving us free time to spend as we choose, to loosen the reins on our lives so that we can carve out a niche (after work, prior to bedtime, following dinner, pre-TV part of our world) to spend some quality time with those around us and the world in general. Is that what we do? Is that what we enjoy? Is this speed bringing you closer to your dream life, to the happiness and joy in your living? If not, why?

In the last two years, Nancy and I have taken the slow lane in life. We are the folks who are headed up the big hill with our blinkers on, windows down, looking at the world as we cruise by slowly. We have changed our concept of time, and in so doing, of the quality of the time that we spend. In preparing to move, we looked at things we could live without, and discovered (as the microwave that was 15 years old died) that you can get by without a fully stocked modern kitchen full of appliances. To be sure, we still have some, but we have asked ourselves if they are truly necessary, or simply convenient. It is the same question we apply to any new (or new to us) purchase. Is it needed or wanted. In doing so, we have found that many things really are wants, and that the promised time savings that is provided is really fictional. Sure you save time grating the cheese in the food processor, but the time spent cleaning it up afterward consumes the time saved. What have you saved? What have you lost?

In the kitchen, part of the joy of our time together is talking as the meal is being prepared, discussing the ingredients cleaning up after each other and generally making it a communal event. The time is not saved by the microwave; it is savored over the stove. It allows us to immerse ourselves in the moments. To smell the meal as it comes together, to enjoy watching someone cook, and reveling in their presence. It allows us to show our love for another. We take joy in our meal, the preparation, consumption, and clean-up; the entire process, together, as a family.

Our lives slow down when we take time to look at the world around us, take time to see the world as it is, right now, in its full beauty. We could do things more expediently on our farm with a tractor, but there are times when the use of a pitchfork and wheelbarrow is more satisfying. The way the mist lays over the trees like a blanket, the manner in which it alters the smell of the earth, the sound of the seagulls, is difficult to perceive from the seat of a tractor. The rich smell of the loam as the manure pile is turned and moved, the sight of the worms, fungi, and beetles rummaging through the compost is missed as the front end loader dives for the next scoop. That time to connect with the senses, to connect with the world cannot be appreciated at Mach-1.

So, what are you doing to slow down?

And everyone shows up at once…..

Time (n) the concept that keeps everything from happening at once.

Funny, it did not seem to be in play this week. We have been on The Island now for close to two years. We have not had many visitors, in fact we have been visited by our Niece, Abbey, and last summer and otherwise, the house has been ours.

Well this week we had a few guests. Arden (a dear friend, and our current tenet on the Texas farm) had been planning a visit. He was headed back from a WHO conference on dementia in Germany and decided that if he was flying through Newark, it would not be that tough to come a little further north for a visit. This visit has been in the works for a few months. We have looked forward to this visit and had made a few plans for some of the things that we wanted to do, but mostly it would involve hanging out and being cool.

Ten days prior to his arrival, I got a call from my paternal Aunt. I had not spoken with her in some time, e-mailed infrequently, and kept up primarily through her yearly missive outlining her travel adventures from the previous year. She had come across some American Airlines super saver mileage fares and it would allow her a trip to Halifax on the cheap. Apparently she had been in touch with Dad, and soon things were squared away for a visit to Canada. Once she had settled that, she got in touch with me to see if it would be possible for a visit to the Gentle Island. Having not seen her or Dad in some time, it sounded like fun.

“When do you all plan on arriving?”
“We will land on Tuesday and try to come see you on Wednesday.”
“Next week?”
“Yeah next week.”

So suddenly we had Arden here, and then after a few days, Charlie, Nita, and Ronnie would be spending a few days in our neck of the woods. The schedule was changed, but what the heck. So, after a little bit of work, we had recommended some lodging in the area and things settled down.

Thankfully the weather held for most of the week so that everyone got to see the island at a pretty moment in time. It was not as warm as we would have liked, but you can’t get everything. We have more visitors for the summer yet to come. We are expecting another visit from Abbey in June and a visit from Katy and Johnny in July. All in all it will be a busy summer.

Well the Strawberry plants need some attention and I still have to give the garden a quick weeding. Hope your days are as fun filled and that time will keep you from having to do it all at once.

Reflections on practice

It has been a while since I attended an international conference. In fact, I have not really been to any formal national or international conferences since I moved from Texas to PEI. I am spending today and the next several days in Vancouver, British Columbia at the Society of Teachers of Family Medicine, STFM. Today the preconference workshop on Palliative Care promoted a reflective sense, and allowed the opportunity to look back at how much has changed during the last two years.

The pre-conference workshop was geared toward developing a curriculum for the education of residents and students in palliative care. It may have been the group, the topic, or the electromagnetic forces at play, but the room was full of many people who love what they do, strive to be the best at their profession, and are keenly aware of their short comings in their endeavor. It was interesting to sit in a room full of people who are mindful. The listening and discussion had a different tone in this room, it reflected the struggle. Into this room, at the close of the day, we turned our attention to ‘self care’.

In the realm of palliative care it is a fact that burnout shadows the work, and in the crucible of academic medicine, the shadows may overtake you before you are aware. In an effort to assess our needs as a group, a small exercise was in order, a pictogram representing where our time and efforts are spent. After drawing a box and labeling the corners (work, family, friends, self-care) the time was divided to reflect the amount of time and energy we spent in each corner. The comparison of my time slices today look very different from the slices two years ago.
Then
Work 70 hours (71%) Family 14 hours (14%)
Friends 7 hours (7%) Self care 7 hours (7%)

Now
Work 50 hours (58%) Family 21 hours (36%)
Friends 7 hours (8%) Self care 7 hours (8%)

The feeling surrounding life has changed far more than the 13% reduction in my work hours reflect. The chaos that comprised a fair bit of life is no longer present. The sense of having to run to keep up is virtually absent, and the smoldering resentment surrounding work has vanished. This change has allowed for a more important evolution in patient care, it has allowed for the return of empathy.

Mindful patient care is something that is difficult to achieve if you have sliced your time so thin as to become transparent. If there is no substance to you, no opportunity to focus your attention on the patient at hand, then you are unable to be mindful and present in the room with the patient. It is this presence that is transformative. Being present, attentive, and without distraction allows you to see the patient as they are, at that moment, in the moment. In seeing the patient, the moment for change occurs. The ability to look past the superficial mask which we all wear allows you the chance to speak to that divine spark within each of us, that little bit of God we all hold, the portion of each patient that can effect change. It is seeing this person, hearing this person, and speaking to this person that we act in ways that allow them to see the change, to become the change.

It is in the quiet times that we can look and see the things that need to be done, and move the things that need moving. On the Island, in my practice, with my patients, I am privileged to observe the comings and goings of these quiet times in the patients and families for whom I care.

Namaste