False Urgency (and a Simple Breathwork Practice to Help)

closeup photo of a ponga fern head about to unfurl against a forest background

I recently watched a video of a massive traffic pile-up in a heavy snowstorm. One after the other, the cars and trucks sailed obliviously into catastrophe.

They couldn't see in front of them, but they kept going at speed. It was one of those videos I knew I shouldn't watch, because those things stay with me awhile, but this time I couldn't pull myself away.

The accident made me think about how we believe we know where we're going, but we don't really. We use our experience of the past to create a picture of the future and expect that reality to happen. It often takes a long time to adjust to what is actually here, in the present.

It's like how we keep making plans to go back to the world as it was in 2019, pre-COVID pandemic, but that world doesn't exist anymore. It's changed so drastically that it's hard to keep up.

When things are uncertain around us, we have been conditioned to try harder and speed up. We want to get the uncertainty over with, because it's so uncomfortable. We go faster instead of giving ourselves time to adjust.

(I share a breathwork practice that helps with this below.)

We are in challenging times, with more ahead. When it seems like the world is on fire, it's hard not to run for the exits. But challenging times demand that we slow down, so we can take in new information. We need to respond to the real conditions around us — not the ones we imagine based on outdated expectations from the past.

Our current global paradigm is male-dominated, capitalist, and imperialist, and it does not treat everyone equally — by a long shot. We have massive work to do as changemakers to create systems that are (to paraphrase from Pachamama Alliance) more socially just, ecologically sustainable, and spiritually fulfilling.  

Our current system prioritizes efficiency at all costs and focuses on short-term gains. Faster means more efficient, the dominant thinking goes. But this urgency comes at the cost of adaptation.

The cars and trucks in the snow had an option to drive more slowly, given the reduced visibility and severity of the storm. They expected the road to be clear ahead of them, just like it was clear behind them. But it wasn't. And they couldn’t adapt in time.

Going slower, with less urgency, would've given everyone time to adjust and adapt, potentially preventing the pile-up.

Slower is smarter because it gives us time to notice. We can't absorb the essential information around us if we're going so fast that we don't see it.

We know the Arctic and Antarctic are 30-40°C hotter than usual right now. We are feeling increasing geopolitical instability, from Ukraine and Russia, to Israel and the occupied Palestinian Territories, Saudi Arabia and Yemen, Ethiopia...and more.

There is real urgency to the sprawling humanitarian crises going on right now.

I'm talking here, however, about the kind of urgency that has us rushing to cross off things from our to-do lists. The urgency that makes us feel like it's impossible and irresponsible to rest.

We need to beware of this kind of urgency. It's a mirage that obscures reality and keeps us focused on action instead of adaptation.

When we go slow, we create the conditions for emergence, for us to recognize that something new can be created from the present moment.

We need to create conditions for emergence because most of us know that if we keep doing the same thing, we're not going to get different results.

Slowing down is extremely counterintuitive for our minds, which have been primed on a steady diet of immediacy. The mind moves fast, like fire, feeding itself and easily spiraling into anxieties about a future that feels out of control.

Even our bodies are accustomed to overstimulation as the norm. We don't notice that chronic overstimulation is an indicator of an over-activated nervous system and a sign that we need self-care. We have not been conditioned to read our bodies’ clear signals as a need to slow down.

With all the urgency, it's easy to be externally focused and lose the connection to our precious inner world. When we rush to get things done, we often minimize and dismiss how unsettling the urgency feels.

When things get hard, leaders and changemakers tend to do more, rather than less. Even resting and relaxing during hard times can feel lazy and call down self-criticism.

When we react to the sense of urgency, we usually "lean in" and do more of the actions that used to work in the past. It would be better to pace ourselves and do less. At least then, when we do decide to take action, it’s more likely to be the right action.

It's not easy to step out of the habit of urgency, but unless we do, we are likely to self-sabotage even our best efforts at impact and change. Urgency condemns us to bypass the emergent opportunities that are right in front of us.

We need now, more than ever, for new paradigms of leadership and collective action to emerge.

We're not going to get there racing around in a state of hyperactivity, infusing every action with the weight of urgency, unable to see what's right in front of us because we're going too fast.

I know from personal experience that this is much easier said than done, so I'd like to share a simple breathwork practice that can help you shift out of urgency and back to the present moment.

Breath is a perfect tool because it’s always available and can immediately shift our physiological state.

Simple Breathwork for Present-Moment Awareness

1. Notice your body and the sensations you are feeling in the moment. Scan from the top of your head, down your neck, shoulders, down your arms. Scan your chest, your back, your belly, your lower back, your hips, your glutes. Scan your legs, down your legs to your feet. Notice what is here — the sensations of tightness, heaviness, warmth, flow...whatever is here. Whether it is pleasant or unpleasant, just notice it.

2. Begin to breathe a soft, slow inhale (through your nose, if possible), expanding your diaphragm. You can put your hand on your solar plexus, under the arch of your ribcage, to feel this. Count your inhale and don't make the breath too deep, we're not going for full lung capacity here.

3. As you exhale (again through your nose, if possible), instead of forcing the air out, gently relax your diaphragm and torso, so the breath leaves your body without effort. Pace your exhale so it's longer than your inhale and up to twice as long. Do whatever is comfortable for you. You don't want to experience "air hunger" in this practice, so breathe at a pace that is slow and relaxed as you continue the practice.

4. Keep going for 3 or more breaths, or set a timer for 1-5 minutes and let yourself soften into the rhythm of your breath, with a relaxed, elongated exhale.

5. When you're done, scan your body again and notice the sensations. Do you feel different? Has anything shifted? What sensations do you notice now?

I invite you to try this simple breathwork as a mindfulness practice anytime you remember it, but especially when a sense of urgency starts to make you want to move fast.

We can give ourselves the gift of space in those moments when it feels like the only option is to keep going, full speed ahead.

There is wisdom in the pause. It gives us time to catch up, to take in the information we need, and to adapt to what is here, in the present.

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