slow isn't efficient

but there's a lot to learn along the way

This morning I walked out into the cold and reached for the gloves I keep in the pocket of my jacket. It’s been weeks since I needed them but this is island weather: a to-ing and fro-ing where the seasons merge before separating again. We’re currently being teased with warmth that won’t settle till October at least but it’s a welcome reprieve from the cold that has us layered and huddling.

It’s been a fortnight since I planted tomato, pea and herb seedlings and I am still waiting to see the tiny tendrils push through the soil. I know what is true: this waiting is worthwhile. There is so much happening even though it’s invisible to me.

I’ve been thinking (probably too much) about the small but meaningful bits of feel-good energy we receive when we can measure the progress we’ve made. To get things done we utilise eustress; it’s known as the ‘good’ stress, a healthy dose of cortisol that keeps us moving and motivated. Without it we feel stagnant and very likely, stuck.

If you’ve been reading these letters long enough you’ll know that I advocate for retreat; stepping to the side, turning away from the work, intentionally ‘not-doing’ so we can clear some space and wait to see what emerges. But this process of waiting can be tedious. It can bring with it so many questions about worth and ability. Ideas can grow here but so too can doubt.

If ‘good work’ is defined by efficiency, how can we learn to value the slow progress of creating and making and not fall into the doubt-spiral? How can we find meaning in the process and not get so attached to the end result?