Slowing Down to Impulse Speed 5-11-11

Anderson, South Carolina

In the realm of physics, in the world of science fiction in particular, the Holy Grail has always been achievement of greater-than-light-speed travel. Conventional Newtonian physics tells us nothing can go faster than the velocity of light. Quantum physics offers a bit of hope there might be ways around this supposed limit. After all, at one time it was believed heavier-than-air flight was impossible and airplanes would disintegrate if they travelled faster than sound. Heavier-than-air flight and supersonic flight are so mundane as to barely deserve comment. Those of us who fantasize, lost in epic sci-fi novels hope this might one day be true of light-speed travel, anticipating faster-than-light warp drive might become reality, allowing us to explore wonders of our universe.

Computer graphics gurus creating sci-fi fantasy generally depict light-speed travel or warp drive as taking place in starless voids. Throughout the legendary Star Trek series stars and galaxies were shown disappearing in a blur when spacecraft made the jump to warp drive; re-appearing only when ships dropped out of warp drive and resumed normal travel at ‘impulse’ speeds well below that of light’s 186,000 miles per second. In between there’s no visual awareness of the universe, only faith and hope one has set course properly. Screen writers might have been onto more emotional and spiritual truth than intended.

Recently while under general anesthesia there was nothing but apparent blackness and a sense of bare milliseconds having elapsed. How could a roomful of busy people be doing all these things to me while I jumped across time? As soon as I made the time jump into anesthesia the world disappeared only to reappear immediately when I came back out of the time jump anesthesia offers. The anesthesiologist was barely mid-sentence before I went under, before I suddenly heard my dear friend, Gloria speaking to me. I had successfully made it across the void in no time. It’s in that jump we are able to avoid much pain and anxiety. At one time anesthesia was inconceivable, now too an ordinary phenomenon of life. My first thought coming out of anesthesia was thinking how wondrous it would be for long-haul jet travel; make the stars disappear and wake me up on the far end; no need to risk experiencing turbulence en route.

Both screen writers and anesthesiologists gave me a useful metaphor. Can living too fast cause us to lose our view of the stars, to lose our experience of life at large? Can frantic over-filled competitive living cast us into a strange form of warp-drive anesthesia that causes us to miss out on what matters?

Recently a number of readers have commented affirmatively on my imperatives about frantic over-driven living, yet asking them to make even one-word comments or click the ‘Like’ button so I know they’ve been reading often elicits the response, “I’m in a hurry” or “I don’t have time.” How can one live so frantically as to not have a free block of time spanning ten seconds?

At our church social hour today a fellow commented on seeing one of my recent writings in cyberspace and not having time to read it. He hurried off to the next ten-second fragment of his life before I could even respond. During the social hour I overheard no less than a dozen people making time-oriented comments; about time elapsing too fast or there not being enough of it. Were they in some sort of warp-drive anesthesia? Will the important things in life transpire before they wake up? A dear friend quipped; “my son was two years old and then he was suddenly thirty-six. What happened?” One fellow repeatedly declared an urgent need to leave the church and visit his mother’s grave, as it was Mother’s Day. I can’t but wonder if she is not living a better way of life. She isn’t going anywhere; not in the least bit of a hurry.

One of the grand benefits of recovery work is learning to make daily evaluation of our use of time. Does our activity help others to find experience, strength, and hope in their struggles? Does our way of living encourage others to let off the gas and slow down, perhaps doing the one next right thing, rather than dissipating life marking out to-do lists of things that really don’t matter much?

I wonder if frantic living is not a form of self-medicating anesthesia, one that allows us to avoid some sorts of introspection or self-examination, yet causing us to miss out on much that is beautiful and significant. Even if I could get an anesthesiologist to knock me out for a sixteen-hour flight, I might miss the wonders of seeing arctic ice fields at sunrise and electromagnetic wonders of shimmering aurora borealis. I might miss making a new friend sitting next to me.

An anonymous writer declares “God can work through you better when you are not hurrying. Go very slowly, very quietly, from one duty to the next, taking time to rest and pray between. Do not be too busy. Take everything in order. Venture often into the rest of God and you will find peace. All work that results from resting with God is good work … Know that you can do good things through God who rests you and gives you strength.”

One can argue the merits of general anesthesia to render the surgical traveller insensate to all that is going on about him for uncertain hours. I was more than happy to make the journey in less than a second; waking up delighted the journey was over. It’s much harder to argue the virtues of frantic busyness that causes us to become lost in starless voids of anxiety, emptiness of soul, and despair. Frantic busyness and over commitment in life causes us to lose focus on where we are going, even why. Elaine St. James declares, “The speed of life on the fast track permeates every area of our lives. Hurrying becomes a habit. Even after we’ve simplified many of our daily routines, if we’re still surrounded by fast-moving people and phones that never stop ringing, slowing down can take a major effort.”

We can only hope it will not take general anesthesia or the long-lasting repose of my friend’s mother to break bad habits of hurrying through life, to bring us down to impulse speed. If we slow down we just might be able to see the wonders of the universe come back into focus, perhaps for the first time.