Rushing is a Form of Violence

One of my best friends had magnets all over her mini fridge in her college dorm room. Most of them were slogans protesting the strikes against Afghanistan post 9/11 (“Barbara Lee Speaks for Me” was particularly special to us because Rep Lee graduated from our alma mater). One of them really stuck with me. It said “rushing is a form of violence”. I recently mentioned to her that I was writing a blog post about this magnet and she said it was a quote attributed to the Dalai Lama, which I didn’t realize. At the time, however, I didn’t get it. 

I didn’t get it and I was a little annoyed, honestly, like this magnet was criticizing me personally. Because I’ve always been someone who rushes. Not just because I’m often running late and I need to rush (though this is also true). But even when I’m on time, I like to move fast. More to the point, I don’t like to waste time. I walk fast, I drive fast, I want to get everything done as fast as possible. I’ve never had patience for dilly dallying. But I’m not a violent person, so this makes no sense right?

Rushing is a form of violence.

25 years later, I haven’t been able to get that phrase out of my head. Each time I thought about it, though, I couldn’t wrap my head around what it meant. It didn’t seem to fit into my narrative of life.

It didn’t fit then and it didn’t fit as I grew into adulthood. It certainly didn’t fit when I was a stressed out law student, then an overworked lawyer, then an overwhelmed stay at home mom. It was no longer a matter of preference: rushing was necessary if I wanted to have time to take a break, ever. I had to get shit done if I wanted the chance to take a second to myself.

But the whole time, that phrase was always in the back of my mind. Rushing is a form of violence.

Even as I started doing more work on myself in the health and wellness space, and went headfirst into researching everything there was to know about the nervous system, it took awhile to put the pieces together. 

On Rushing

In their book “Our Polyvagal World”, Seth Porges and Dr. Stephen Porges explain that a simple change in your breathing pattern can shift your body from a sympathetic (fight or flight) state to parasympathetic (rest and digest) state. As you breathe, make sure that your exhale is longer than your inhale. That’s it. In other words, don’t focus on the inhalations, just let out purposely long exhalations. This triggers a sense of safety in your brain because if you have the time and space to slowly exhale, you are definitely not running from a bear.

And if you were running from a bear, you would definitely be rushing.

(Side Note: I am well aware that you are not supposed to run from a bear. But it’s my analogy so go with it.)

What does this mean about how we look at relaxation? It’s not just about taking a break for a meditation or relaxing on the couch after the kids have gone to bed. It’s how we do life when we’re actually doing it. 

It’s about not rushing.

Slow down your breathing because it relaxes you in the moment, even while you’re working or driving the kids to soccer practice.

Taken one step further, slow down everything you do. You will be calmer for it. Leave 5 minutes earlier and take your time driving to work. Let the kids goof off a little bit before sending them to get ready for bed. Eat slowly. Take pauses. Work softer. 

And it’s not just the act of rushing that activates the sympathetic nervous system. It’s the feeling that accompanies it. The pending deadlines, the anxiety to get there or get it done. I think we can all agree: every moment weighed down by the burden of hurrying is a stressful one. 

Slowing down calms the nervous system. And if we approach our day with a little more ease, we might not feel the need to rush through everything to get to our break.

But Violence?

Maybe violence doesn’t just mean physical altercation, abuse or war. 

Maybe it’s a metaphor here (or maybe the Dalai Lama understood the nervous system better than anyone). Maybe we can consider violence (at least in this context) to be that flush of anger you feel when someone cuts you off in traffic. Blowing up at your kids after you’ve asked them nicely to put on their shoes five times and they just won’t listen. Snapping at your partner when you feel resentful that they haven’t done their share of the housework.

How did we get there? Why are we losing our shit when the customer service representative is being (you can only assume) intentionally unhelpful? 

Our chronic stress. Our dysregulated nervous systems cause us to snap at small stresses (and fall apart at larger ones). 

The term “fight or flight” is literally referring to the physical and sometimes violent reaction of our bodies to stress. Physiologically, fighting or “flighting” is what we’re supposed to do in response to things that activate this system. It’s biology.

But we’re not abusers or criminals so we know true violence is wrong. We don’t actually “fight” in the way nature intended (and I’m not suggesting we should). The fight happens inside. Maybe we snap or blow up when we’re really pushed. We argue. But that’s nothing compared to what’s going on inside. For the most part, we contain the bulk of the response. We turn inwards and the “fight or flight” is internalized. The violence happens in our bodies.

We are the victims of our own violence. And rushing is one sure way to get you there.

Anyways, I think that’s what the Dalai Lama was getting at.

Rushing is a form of violence.