110. Be Slow – Rachel Schwartzmann

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Recently what's seemed the most urgent is the question of our collective relationship with pace and its influence on how we live, work, and create in our digital age.

As I write this, I'm sitting at my desk surrounded by three machines: phone, laptop, and desktop computer. They flash with a deluge of reminders, each notification a gateway to multiple lists filled with the day's tasks. Everything is syncing up and fueling the inevitable question that many of us face when looking at our to-do's: 
 
Where should I begin?

 
For a long time, this question was enough to send my mind into overdrive. But in my line of work, I get to ask a lot of questions. Recently what's seemed the most urgent is the question of our collective relationship with pace and its influence on how we live, work, and create in our digital age. It's a tough one to tackle even in a landscape that provides easy and immediate answers—many of which can be found within the four corners of a screen. 
 
But as we've all slowed down this year, I haven't been as satisfied with the answers we've been given. And instead of searching for more online, I've spent time looking at what's right in front of me: Above my machine-laden desk hangs an oil painting stretched on canvas. To the right, perched and at the ready, is the corkboard I use to create monthly mood-boards.

Below that, a stack of papers and a vintage globe sits atop a filing cabinet. There are noticeable divots, creases, and cracks in all of these things. The globe, in particular, is faded and covered in a thin layer of dust. As I reach over and give it a twirl, I think about all of the people in the world—spinning, asking questions, searching for answers.

Unlike the click of a button, these objects don’t provide immediate answers, but they refocus the blurred lines between physical and digital, real and obscured. They create opportunities to look more closely, to listen more carefully, to consider more honestly: What do I want to make? Where do I want to go? Who do I want to be?
 
Our work will always be there; it will be ongoing. But during this rare opportunity we have to truly slow down, I silence my alarms, put my phone away, and ask myself: Where should I begin? 

– Rachel Schwartzmann

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Prompt:
Set your timer for five minutes and do nothing. Stare at the desk or the wall or the dust motes in a slice of sunlight. Then write about the thoughts, the questions, and the answers that came up in that moment of slowness, of stillness.


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