How to Do More by Juggling Less


Do you ever feel as if you have too many balls in the air?

We all have our limits. Ever watch champion jugglers? As their audience applauds, they add object after object to their juggling mix. The crowd watches in awe and anticipation, knowing that if the jugglers add one too many, everything will come crashing down.

Life can be like that, too. When we have one too many projects in the air, our stress peaks, our thinking fuzzes, and we start dropping the balls.  Often, we didn’t ask for these intruders to our schedules. We had a reasonable to-do list, but then the phone rang, and we had to add two more urgent items to our must-do list.

Maybe we don’t spill all our balls, but instead of feeling in balance, we’re now stressed, overwhelmed and disappointed in ourselves.

Not a good reward for our efforts.

How can we stop being pushed by our to-do lists and use our planning to pull us towards what we want to do?

Enter Personal Kanban

Last year a book came out, Personal Kanban by Jim Benson and Tonianne DeMaria Barry, that suggested a new approach to personal time management based on the principles of Kanban, used in the highly productive Japanese system of “Lean Manufacturing.”

Personal Kanban invites you to take information out of your head, write it down, and make it visual. It also encourages you to limit the items you are working on at any one time.

The process is helpful for those of us who: 1) carry a large amount of information in our heads (I used to, but that was forty years ago), and 2) try to work on lots of items from our to-do list at any one time and then complete very few.

Personal Kanban is about flow and releasing you from the rule of the to-do list. It’s ridiculously easy to try.

You write onto post-its all the work, projects, activities, and ideas for projects that you have on your plate. Then you stick the post-its on a whiteboard, placing them in an area you label OPTIONS or BACKLOG. (Name the columns as you like.) You then choose items to slide into a column marked READY from which you’ll choose three items for your DOING column. When work is complete, you slide it into DONE.

Then, voila, you monitor your flow of work and reflect on the results.

The key is to limit your work in progress–the “doings.” Rather than doing a little bit of a lot of things at any one time, you focus on the few things you most want to get done. If you are working on a big project, you slice off the piece you can do today–the one call you need to make.

You focus more, stress less, and typically get more done. But Personal Kanban is not just about getting a lot of stuff done–it’s also about making choices that can, in the words of Marie Kondo, bring you joy.

Resist the tyranny of to-do’s

Focusing on to-do lists can fry your brain because to-do lists are static, and almost always getting longer. What was “important” today, to use Stephen Covey’s categorization of high-value activities, may not be important tomorrow.

With Personal Kanban you can revise the flow based on new information or shifts in your life. For example, I may be writing a chapter of my book (important), when I remember my Granddaughter’s birthday. I slip it onto my DOING list, perhaps bumping something else because I know that sending her a gift is key to my satisfaction for the day.

Kanban maps are fluid and visual. They can also be colorful–which for me is a big plus. Seeing the rows of columns allows me to focus on the few things I can do, not the whole list of options for what I might do.

Instead of being “pushed” by my to-do list I’m “pulled” by what I choose to do.

It’s super easy to start

With barely more information than what is in this post, you can set up your system, although I highly recommend the book . or some of the explanatory videos you can find online.

Step one:

You start by doing an enormous brain dump and visualizing ALL of the work and activities clamoring for your attention. Take out a stack of post-its and write down everything you have open, or might have open in the way of a project, commitment, one idea to a note.

The trip you are planning. The birthday gift you need to buy. The client you need to call back.

You will stick all your post-its or stack your cards in an area (column or list” in Trello) called OPTIONS. (In the original system it was called BACKLOG.)

Step Two

Create a column called READY. The work that you select represents what you will choose from today. You can also call it TODAY. Every day you will spend a few moments reflecting on what is essential today and arranging your lists. You want to be able to finish what you start, so you may want to break apart big projects into bite-size steps. Even a project as small as putting out a blog post can have discrete steps like “write,” “edit,” and “publish.”

Step three

Here’s the critical part. Select up to three post-its or cards for your  DOING column, your work in progress This will focus your attention on what you want to finish today. Once you complete a task, you move it into the DONE column. After you’ve completed your three work-in-progress items, you can choose something new, or take a break and celebrate.

Step four

Once a work-in-progress is complete move the card or post-it to your column called DONE.

If you need to wait for a response from someone, create a column called WAITING, or The PEN or ON-HOLD and put the card in this waiting bin.

Voila, Now you have a visual map that allows you to watch your work, activities, and processes move from ready to complete.

Step five

Take time to reflect on what you learn. You can even add a column called reflections. And celebrate!

It’s flexible

I do my Kanban map on the computer, using a piece of online software called Trello that feels like a mobile whiteboard. With Trello, you create cards and “pin” them on an electronic whiteboard. Even though I love the idea of standing in front of a large whiteboard sticking on lots of colorful post-its, the portability of an online program works better for me.

With one week into the process of using Personal Kanban, I’m already achieving results with less stress. I’m less tempted to go on a task marathon and start checking items off my list just because I can. With Personal Kanban, I make choices. I may decide to slide some small tasks into DOING, but I do this intntionally based on my view of the whole. And most importantly, I limit what I’m focused on at any one time.

The authors write,

We need to define our work, rather than let our work define us. To escape the tyranny of push [by our to-do lists or obligations], we must complete what we start, exercise options for effectiveness, and increase the occurrence of what brings us joy.

Yep. Who wants just to do tasks when we can choose more joy?

Marie Kondo, Will you be my Valentine?

Dear Marie,

I know my invitation may come as a surprise after all the snide comments I made about tidying in this blog. You have every right to be offended.

I read your book once, standing up, in the bookstore. The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing. (My approach saves the clutter of buying new books.)

Your message, which has been praised and parodied, was too austere for me. The word “tidying” made me think of “white gloves,” and “princesses,” who probably have more than they need, incidentally.

It was hard to accept tidying because I believed, and still do, that creativity can thrive in chaos. A life that is too strictly organized feels confined to the straight and narrow. I always find some moment of inspiration when I go through an old stack of papers, books, memorabilia, or the top drawer of my desk. Austin Kleon, whose book, Steal Like an Artist I love, would agree with me, by the way.

Why else would we be fascinated to rummage around in old attics, trusting that some magic could be found in the mess?

Once upon a time,  I participated in a spiritual community that favored simple living before minimalist was a word. The teaching was to have no more and no less than you needed. Some participants were able to reduce their belongings to what could fit in a half dozen Tupperware boxes.

I succeeded at simplifying a bit, but I always rankled at the idea that I “should” let go of what I loved. I flunked the teaching.

That’s why Marie, I wasn’t well set up to enjoy “tidying.”

What turned me around to tidying

This weekend I binged watched your new Netflix series in the midst of Seattle’s once-in-a-lifetime (I hope) blizzard. I watched as you taught your approach to eight different households. 

First off, thanks for picking a diversity of clients – not just affluent, straight, Caucasians. I counted African-Americans, Pakistani, Japanese-Americans, Caucasians, gays, married straights, married lesbians, and one widow, all at different stages of life. Their homes ranged from tiny apartments to big houses. You greeted all your clients with respect and a squeal of delight.

I once worked in Japan, so hearing you speak Japanese was a treat, as were the moments at the beginning of each consultation in which you’d sit in Zen-like silence, meditating to connect to the spirit of the home.

I was never good at tidying because I thought it meant austerity. Something that would be good for me to do. It brought as much joy as my mother did when I was eight and she made me stay inside on a sunny day and clean my room.

But now your words, “Does it spark joy?” are ringing in my head. Some may call them corny, but I think you’re in touch with something here. I started looking at my belongings in a new way.

I was so glad that you didn’t insist that your clients prepare themselves to sleep on woven tatami mats instead of beds, and keep their belongings in a closet tucked behind a couple of shoji screens, like my Japanese friends. You knew that wouldn’t work for people in the States. I loved watching the man, of Guatemalan parents, who was proud to have reduced his 165 pairs of sneakers to 45. 

You seemed to understand what your clients were facing, not just with their stuff, but with the impact that their belongings had on their relationships. You helped them remember what was most important. Maybe that’s what I liked most about your show.

Giving tidying a try

With the blizzard burying our town, and no electric power, I started tidying my bathroom and then did my dresser. That question, “Does it spark joy for you?” shifted my mood, together with the process you suggest of always thanking your belongings for their service before you let them go. Crazy idea perhaps, but it made it much easier for me to give things away.

My belongings started speaking to me in new ways. I discovered items I had forgotten and felt like I was re-meeting old friends. I resolved to pay them more respect. 

I admit, I took a few liberties with your system, and I followed more of a  “let’s do what I can” process. I approached my book collections separately rather than heaping all my books together. I used a small-steps approach.

The hardest so far has been my vases. I study Ikebana, the Japanese art of arranging flowers, so I can always justify getting another vase. But then I bet Imelda Marcos, the queen of obsessive shoe collections, could always justify buying a hundred more shoes. One by one, I asked the joy question to my vases and started letting some go.

Please be my Valentine

Sparking joy feels a bit like magic, and we need more of that today. Tidying feels like an invitation to feel the essence of things and to appreciate everything you have. Plus, it brought me joy.

I get so tired of reading about bad news that I am powerless to change. Tidying a drawer helped me to feel a little optimism again. 

I know, Marie, that you’re probably not available to join me on Valentine’s Day. I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate you a lot. 

My real Valentine’s date will be my husband. I used your question and discovered that yes, he still brings me joy.




Improve your day a click at a time

What if one click of acknowledgment could reinforce the skill, craft, or project you’re working on?

Why not reinforce the best of what you do, while letting the rest, well, fade away?

The limits of willpower

In working alone on my book, blog, or podcast, I sometimes need to rely on willpower to keep going. But that elusive resource eventually runs out, leaving me struggling to keep my engines going. 

Willpower is definitely overrated. Imagine the results (my guess: zero) if we asked our dogs (or staff) to stay motivated on willpower alone. Fueling on willpower is too hard. 

Treats and rewards can be much more helpful…but I’ll come back to that later.

We all need acknowledgment and positive reinforcement, and I’m learning just how important that is from my new ventures into dog training.

A new (older) foster dog recently joined us, the irrepressible Jackson. A bit of training was in order and we hired a coach who specializes in “Clicker Training.” I’m hooked. I want to use Clicker Training on me.

It’s is a form of positive reinforcement that comes out of Behaviorism, a branch of psychology I used to criticize. Rats working in boxes weren’t my thing.

But I’m reconsidering now.

Basically, you click to reinforce behaviors you want so that they will increase. You ignore or don’t reinforce negative behaviors and they decrease. That may sound manipulative, but Clicker Training works a lot better than the punish and reprimand school of dog training. 

A clicker is a small device you hold in your hand and immediately click when your dog does what you’ve asked for (or makes a credible try). You click to reinforce his good choice and always follow with a small treat.

Your massively intelligent dog thinks, “Wow, I did something right, yum, treat is coming,” and feels reinforced for doing the behavior you wanted.

Clicker training has been used to shape the behavior of a tiny crab and to train champion sheepdogs. It works.

Our new dog, Jackson, at ten years old, is on for the program. He believes all treats are good.

I’m now wondering if I could clicker-train myself?

Click to train leaders

As I think about it, I suspect a sizeable chunk of management literature has borrowed liberally from behaviorism, such as Ken Blanchard’s classic The One Minute Manager, in which he advocates “catching people in the act of doing something right,” or Charles Duhigg’s The Power of Habit, in which a series of cues are set up to shape a habit you want to develop.

Maybe a lot of management consulting could be replaced with clicker training. Hmmm. Just an idea…

How we might click to train ourselves

I’m no expert on Clicker Training, but I’ve distilled a few principles to try:

Relaxation first

Our dog trainer, Maggi McClure, exudes ease when you’re with her. You relax and  shift from thinking, “Oh my god, you wouldn’t believe that (bad) thing our dog just did,” to “Let’s have some fun together.” This definitely helps the dog.

For people: Since over-efforting is my M.O., I could use more ease at the start of my workday. A little breathing, meditation, or relaxation would surely improve my focus.

Plus, fun makes me more functional.

Become more observant

We often think we see what dogs are doing, or focus on what they “should” do, and miss what they’re actually doing. Clicker trainers become very observant. Is that waggy-tail a show of happiness or a reflection of stressed over-excitement?

For people: I often don’t see my own behavior. I don’t notice that I’m tensing, demonstrating signs of stress, “over-adrenalizing,” or making a project harder than it needs to be.

Focus on the positive

Clicker trainers catch dogs in the act of doing something right, even if it’s the smallest beginning step of a command, such as a head turn. They still occasionally reprimand. But they’ll try to substitute a positive pathway for your pooch’s knock-guests-down-at-the-door behavior.

For people: Some writing coaches feel it’s their job to rip apart student writing. Actor/writing-coach Ann Randolph uses only positive reinforcement to power up her improv-writing courses. She finds something interesting to highlight in each participant’s writing. You learn to build on your successes and, even more importantly, you’re motivated to keep writing.

Be specific

Clicker trainers break down actions into the small steps required to succeed with a command. It takes artistry to break a skill into manageable bites. For example, before a dog will come to you, he needs to look at you.

For people: Big goals can give you a direction. But I’ve discovered that a broad goal like “I want to write a book” is too general to help me focus my day. I’d be better off identifying the specific steps I need to take or break apart the particular skills I need to learn. 


In clicker training, the click tells the dog immediately that it’s got the right idea. (Timing is key.)

For people: I wish someone would click to tell me that I’m doing my life right. (God, are you listening?) Short of that, I have to be my own clicker and find friends who can remind me of the positive steps on my path I’ve made.


The clicker is always followed by a reward.

For people: Give yourself more rewards. You deserve them. They don’t have to make you fat. (Jackson is on a strict diet.) Make a list of the best low-calorie treats, breaks, or special experiences you could use to reward yourself for even small progress. (Send me your list, please…)

Keep the sessions short and focused

Maggi recommends lots of 2-minute dog training sessions and tells us to end with a win while the dog is still focused.

For people: Determine how long you can sustain deep focus and schedule accordingly. For me, it’s about 25 minutes. After that, I’ll perform better after my reward!

Build on success

As a dog becomes more successful, clicks and rewards can become more intermittent. If he’s mastered one behavior, you add a new challenge. If that new challenge proves too big (“don’t chase squirrels” would almost always be too big),  you ease back to a place where he can again experience success. You keep the overall experience positive. 

For people: Count all the ways you’ve improved so that you can remember on one of those dark “the-sky-is-falling” days.

Go off duty

When a dog is not in training, he’s off duty.

For people: Go outside and play.

Obviously, not all learning can be built around stimulus-response. Some deep learning may require years of thought and questions. Or, it may come in one unplanned Eureka moment.

Yet, the idea of identifying a lot of small positive steps, and giving myself lots of specific acknowledgments and rewards is appealing to me.  I’ll just have to be my own clicker.


Fill with joy and arrest the stress in the holidays

Does it ever feel to you that someone is tightening the gears on life in order to speed up time, especially during the holidays?

Years ago, I had the opportunity to visit the Boeing Commercial Aircraft factory in Everett, Washington, where the new 777 jetliner was being assembled. The Boeing guide pointed out how the gears under the seats could be tightened to decrease the space between the rows, a potentially useful feature if you were selling the aircraft to a country of midgets.

I noticed, shortly afterward, that legroom did start disappearing on aircraft, an effort, I believe, to reverse engineer us into becoming midgets.

I don’t know who is responsible for tightening my experience of time during the holiday season. Every year, for those who celebrate Christmas, the number of days in the buying season appears to be expanding (has it spilled into September yet?), while our experience of time, or the lack of it, is increasingly compressed. Our collective buying hysteria is like a horse race, where we line up and wait for an announcer to cry, “And they’re off,” as we rush our way out of the gate, not quite sure how to even find the finish line.

No wonder we’re stressed.

If you celebrate another holiday like Hanukah, the winter solstice, Kwanzaa, or New Years, I hope you’re feeling more sane. I invite you to still take a few ideas off this page to apply to any big, stressful events in your life.

Make a list and check it twice.

Don’t worry about being naughty or nice. Just make a list of everything you want to do and realize that not even a superhuman filled with holiday spirit/s could accomplish it. Then take out a fat sharpie pen, maybe a red one, and, with gusto, put lines through at least a third of the items.

If this feels impossible (“You don’t understand, I have to buy a gift for my nephew…”), invite your BFF for a Toasted White Chocolate Mocha (real drink) and ask her or him to edit the list for you. Hopefully, they will question: You HAVE to put up a tree, attend two holiday concerts and go to the office party this weekend??? You HAVE to buy a gift for your thirty-five year old nephew who has never once said thank-you? You HAVE to decorate your bathroom?

The more obligations you can cross out, the more time you’ll have for the holiday experiences you most care about.

Drop Perfection. Pretty good is good enough.

Think of imperfections as the spice of life, like one of the secret ingredients in the Chestnut Praline Chai Tea Latte (real drink). You need them to prove that you’re human, and that applies to the people around you as well.

Set your tolerance meter on peak strength as you laugh at the foibles and failings of yourself and others. Your teenage daughter is acting surly? She’s proving herself human; don’t let it spoil your day. Your husband forgets to buy the candles before the party? You aren’t able to send out cards?  And that prize batch of cookies that chars when the doctor calls at the wrong moment?

More proof.

Remember that in the original Christmas story, the inn blew the reservation, the motels were all full, and the couple ended up staying in a barn without even a cot. Your mishaps and those of your friends are nothing in comparison.

(Special holiday bonus: My official permission for you to have an occasional, scrumptious meltdown if you need one.)

Accentuate the positive

With a tip of the hat to Johnny Mercer’s hit song from 1944, we need to give more attention to what we love so that what we don’t can roll off our backs. Confession: I do not like crowds, lines, Christmas carols played in elevators, holiday offers over Amazon, or malls. But I love putting up a Christmas tree, singing carols, decorating the house, quiet meditations and choosing a gift for someone I love (when I’m not stressed). And hot baths.

Focus on what you love and give yourself a lot of it. If you want to go to three Messiah concerts, keep White Christmas playing on the stereo, or sip a juniper latte (real drink) every day, do it. If you love winter snow, why not take a special drive up into the mountains and send a loving note to your in-laws telling them their gift will be coming soon?

If you choose to drink a cup of low-fat, highly-sugared eggnog every day, fully savor it, while allowing visions of January exercise programs to dance in your head. (Private note to husband.)

The holidays are meant to be a time of joy and celebration, so if you fill up on joy, you can throttle down on stress.

Take ten minutes (or less) to make a change

There will be a few things you might not prefer but can’t avoid, like the obligatory holiday office party that can be so deadly for us introverts.  That’s why I wrote my little e-book The Ten Minute Holiday Miracle: Reclaim your joy and sanity this season in ten minutes or less. It’s designed to help you create small intentions that change your feelings about your experiences, or to trick the stress out of you.

Rather than take space here to describe these stress-busting secrets, I’d rather give you the book as a gift. Pick it up by clicking here.

Remember the holidays don’t have to be all sunshine and joy. It’s OK to embrace a little darkness, too. This is the season of light, and the light will always bring out a few shadows.

Enjoy the ride, and, even when life feels like a roller coaster, buckle up your seat belt and send out some extra love.

It’s needed more now than ever.

Taking the small steps back to thriving

What do we do when we keep getting clobbered by bad news?

Find our way back to thriving.

This week, I’m continuing my survival guide to pulling a little hope from tough times. Hopefully, you don’t need it, unless, of course, you made the mistake of listening to the latest report on Global Warming or what’s happening at the border with Mexico.

Topping my list of things-I-didn’t-ask-for-and-didn’t-want this week was Monday’s emergency root canal and the death of a favorite cousin. Plus all the national and international news.

I’ve also been questioning my authority to write about thriving creatively in the second half of life, while my list of woes keeps accreting with medical and health issues, financial concerns, the loss of a beloved, and even letting go of plans to adopt a dog I had been counting on. 

Maybe this week’s episode of the Survival Guide should be called Thriving is Not What You Think.

Raw and a bit crumpled, I’m wondering how I can have any legitimacy to talk about thriving. But this has been the perfect time to explore how we keep going when we feel broken, so maybe I still have something to talk about. I figure there might be a few others out there whose lives are rich, complex, and full of stuff not chosen.

It’s one thing to thrive when everything is going great, or an affirmation or two can turn things around. But challenges will come with life after 50 (or living in general), and we know better than to think that we can varnish over them. 

Don’t believe the well-packaged books, posts, and articles being marketed with titles like Do This One Thing and Your Life Will Be Instantly Wonderful. Yes, they’re tempting. (Disclaimer: I occasionally read this stuff.) But, even as I unconsciously take the bait and click on the tempting tidbit flashing over the Internet with a sexy, pseudo-solution, I know it’s a sham. After the headline, “clickbait” is always boring.

Moreover, the one-stop solution feels disrespectful of those of us who know it ain’t that easy. 

Finding a way back to thriving.

I decided to notice, on root canal day, what kept me going.

When you’re feeling raw or broken, the good stuff stands out. Maybe the darkness makes the light brighter. (Forgive me if that sounds like a bumper sticker.) With my customary, entitled belief that things should go my way worn off, I started noticing lots of small things that were, in fact, working for me. I found hints of delight.

The day of my root canal was brilliantly sunny, and I enjoyed a spectacular view of Mt. Rainier on the way to the endodontist. The “C” bus that I needed to catch came promptly. A brisk walk to her office gave me some exercise, and the warm greeting from the receptionist felt genuine. Throughout the visit, I experienced respect and compassion. The endodontist, whom I fell in love with as much as you can love working with a dentist, soothed me as she gently touched my arm. Beautiful music distracted me from the procedure (thanks Pandora Radio)–the nitrous oxide helped me relax into a semi-comatose state where every song seemed spectacular. 

Returning home, I needed to run to catch a bus and discovered that my knees, ankles, and back could still pull as a team. Back on the island, my husband was waiting for me on the street with an open-hearted smile. A friend who was also in pain called to ask me a question. I was buoyed by an opportunity to help another.

Each small step was a grace.

I discovered that life is never all one way…all happy or all sad, all dark or all light. 

I can’t pretend that everything that happens to us is good. The fact that my cousin struggled with early onset dementia for twenty years, knowing that she would eventually die of the same condition that had killed her mother, was tragic. Yet in her life and death, there were many miracles: her resilience and hope, her peaceful death, the way cousins are reconnecting around her departure.

Within everything, we can find enough good to keep us going. 

I won’t call the pain, hassle, and expense of a root canal good. Yet my day contained so much good within it, that I discovered that I was, indeed, thriving.

True, it broke my heart to not be able to adopt the dog I had been counting on; yet along the way I experienced a new friendship and generous, caring support from the dog’s current foster Mom. The heartfelt, compassionate back-up from the animal-loving friends to whom I reached out for guidance, touched me deeply. 

Etty Hillesum, whose writings about life during the Holocaust have inspired me so much, wrote about the touches of beauty she discovered in her horrific surroundings, like how the sun bounced off the walls of the concentration camp or how a flower could grow in the broken concrete.

All is not good. But we can always discover the good that is waiting to be noticed.

My list of saving graces is full of items that are small and, seemingly, insignificant, like being able to run a few blocks. On my “Life-is-working-aren’t-I-great-days” I can forget to appreciate these small things. On my bad days, they are the gifts that bring me back to life.

The days when life drops us to our knees are the days when we may look down to find the flower in the concrete.

People come together in remarkable ways after the worst tragedies, like the recent fires in Paradise, California. Small acts don’t bring a burned home back; they bring back hope.

When we get raw, we get real; we drop some of the masks we carry that separate us from life. 

My book is taking a new direction. I don’t need to be a cheerleader for “Isn’t it great to thrive after 50?”  Rather, I can say, “Stuff is going to happen, but we can still find our way to thriving.” A bit of depression, a period of brokenness, or a calamity or two don’t banish us from experiencing the small wonders of life. At times, they may even be enhanced.

That’s how we will continue to thrive. We don’t have to force fit life into an ideal reality.

We follow its flow and discover what is ideal within the reality we have.


Want more time? Go slow…

A colleague once shared a Montana saying.
Question: How do you make cows move fast?
Answer: Slowly

It was one of the days. I was not succeeding in fitting life into the time available. Maybe I should have known that my jazzy new Adobe podcast editing software, designed to save me time, would exponentially increase the time it would take me to edit–at least while I was climbing a mountain known as “master new software.” I’m still panting.

I was standing at the sink trying to wash the dishes rapidly so I could return to my writing and other critical tasks on my agenda, when I heard the words, “Go slow.”

Slow? I challenged myself: why not. I was already hopelessly behind in my plans for the day. I remembered an exercise I had done in an improv theatre class in which the instructor asked us to slow all of our movements down. Each gesture we made or step we took, we were to do sloooowly.

I experimented, sticking my hand slowly into the hot water and swiping a sponge against the inside of a bowl, at half of my normal speed. Then I reduced my speed again. I almost stopped moving. I stood still as a stream of rinse water came out of the spigot like magic, bouncing off the sides of the bowl. I extended my arm a few inches at a time until I could safely nest the bowl in the drainer.  I took so…much…time.

What I discovered

The results were amazing. I started breathing more deeply. I began gazing around the kitchen with new interest. Ordinary objects caught my interest. I saw art where there had been none before, a beam of light on the counter; the texture of a basket, a streak on the window, a pillar of glasses, and the glistening of soap bubbles in the sink.

I enjoyed what I was doing.

Moving in slow time felt so different than my usual program of “let’s see how fast we can do this so I can get back to my real work.” I left the sink feeling refreshed by the work. What’s more, I felt that in moving slowly, I had shifted my relationship with time: I had gained time.

Since this first experiment, I have tried slowing down while walking a garden path, feeding the horses, and taking Riley the dog out for a poop. As I slow, I seem to break apart some habitual patterns and pay more attention to my surroundings.

What’s the big deal or isn’t this just mindfulness?

You may be shaking your head at my revelations, thinking that this is just another form of practicing presence or a modest experiment with mini-mindfulness. You’re right. But I wasn’t trying to be mindful, or spiritual, or present at all. I was just trying one simple thing in the midst of a crazy day:

Slowing way down.

The benefit of slowing is you can do it practically any time and anywhere, in the midst of the crazy parts of your day. You don’t need to save it for your meditation or use it to practice presence.

And you don’t have to relate it to your spiritual path or label it anything. You just do one thing: you…slow…down.

It doesn’t require a course, a guru and it’s free.

You’d need to exercise some care in high-velocity zones like Times Square or Grand Central Station in New York or Shinjuku Station in Tokyo where breaking with the rhythm of the crowds might be a bit risky. But maybe you could think “I’m just practicing slowness” when you find yourself on Seattle’s I-5 corridor moving at a tortoise-like pace. (Probably too advanced for me!)

If moving at half-speed doesn’t help you relax, move at quarter-speed. Move so slowly that your movement feels like art. Play with it. And keep washing the dishes, walking the path or feeding the animals.

Something might open up for you. Please experiment and then tell me about it.



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