Slower is better

Here’s an interesting scenario that should be familiar to anyone who spends most of their life online: you’re on Facebook, absentmindedly going through your news feed, you try your best to ignore clickbaiting links scattered around like landmines waiting to explode, but you accidentally opened one anyway. This black hole leads you to another article, business cats lead you to more cats dressed like humans, then that leads you to Googling an article related to why cats are so popular on the Internet. You watch a video link related to the article, a cool song accompanies it, and you hum along. Next thing you know, you’re listening to the artist’s new album on Spotify. You go back to your Facebook feed to share your discovery, you also tweet about it. Your Twitter feed is a springboard for more links and you willingly spiral down with all of it. You look at your clock and it’s already been six hours since you last ate something. The night is already well on its way to turning into morning and you have a paper due three hours ago.

It’s a maddening scenario amplified by smartphones that keep you wired every waking hour. Even the television is now a device made for translating your five-inch screen experience into the splashy confines of HD viewing. Once you’re going through your Nextflix queue, there’s no stopping — unless the crappy Internet connection gives up on you. Everything that is anything is now accessible. While these bits of information are supposed to help us improve our lives, I’m getting this sinking feeling that it’s all getting out of hand.

I find that my personality is gradually being shaped by the rapid connection of this age: if I don’t get a cab within five minutes, my EQ hits rock bottom, I get anxious waiting in line because I want things to happen right when I want them to, and the previously mentioned poor Internet connection has made monsters of all of us. We’re like drones mindlessly going through our days, filling our hours with “social media connections,” one-upping each other’s tweets, thinking of puns and witticisms to attract likes and retweets, removing pieces of clothing for Instafame. Is this why zombies are up in the hierarchy of pop culture these days? Because on a subconscious level we relate to their soulless existence?

I’ve been desperately trying to whittle down my hours online. I’ve tried deleting apps on my phone, refusing to charge my laptop, and stowing devices out of reach so I won’t be tempted to check the Internet’s reaction to a particular show I’m watching. Digital detox isn’t a new thing for burnouts like me, and others have been successful in liberating themselves. My job, however, requires me to tap into the wire and find new and shiny things relevant to our audience. It’s almost as if I’m sentenced to a life online if I want to earn a living. I’ve often joked that I’ve been thinking of turning into a hermit and going up a mountain just so I can slow down, but now it’s a prospect that’s becoming more attractive by the minute.

Recently, Kinfolk, a magazine that champions slow living, published an excerpt from an 11-year-old book of Slow movement advocate Carl Honoré, In Praise of Slow. Though his book deals with working and productivity, some tenets ring true to this day. In particular, that there are glaring elements in our lives that tie us down and hamper our capability to actually enjoy life, the one thing we’re all working towards. Most of our days are spent bending around the requirements of work: its fixed hours and the limitations it imposes.

In an accompanying interview, Honoré posited fear as the primary force that prevents us from slowing down. “Fear of failure, of scorn, of missing out, and the fear of being alone with ourselves,” he said. For today’s generation, this fear is magnified by social media, in which achievements are celebrated (which adds to the pressure of success) and every little misstep is treated as a colossal hole in your personality.

Hype and hysteria mark our lives now, hyperbole the speedy resort of people eager to share their experiences online. Our movements should gravitate towards an existence that’s complemented by social media and not the other way around. You shouldn’t go to Angkor Wat just because of the Instagrammable factor, you should go because of your genuine desire to see the world.

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