The word ‘slowpoke’ refers to a person who moves or acts very slowly. I move and think slowly from inclination, habit or temperament. If that is so, I am a slowpoke.
I like slow burn movies where the plot and character revelations build up at a quiet glacial pace and sometimes nothing happens at all on the surface. When I read a book, it takes me weeks or sometimes months to finish it.
Although I am sociable, I don’t easily make friends. It takes me a little longer to give my full trust to someone and this is why my circle of intimates is very small.
I can’t be rushed into a decision. I often say, ‘Let me think about it,’ whether someone asks me to comment, share an opinion, or invites me to a social function-or to chat over coffee. My wife and I were engaged for five years before I gave in to her insistence that we formalize our relationship by getting married.
In childhood, I was one of the first to be eliminated in games like Trip to Jerusalem because I was slow to react. In street games like ‘patintero,’ I was easily tagged by my quicker playmates, so nobody wanted me on their teams. In the fairy tale ‘The Hare and the Turtle,’ I naturally rooted for the turtle in his race with the overconfident rabbit.
In college, I joined a five-kilometer run at my classmates’ insistence, only to finish among the 10 slowest runners. In pickup basketball games, I couldn’t stay with the player I was guarding. Even during our Saturday dance parties, I couldn’t find a partner: by the time I reached the other side of the floor where the girls were seated, everyone was already taken. I learned to live with people calling me ‘mabagal’ though it hurt more than I let on.
In class, I struggled to think quickly. When it was time to stand for recitation, my mind would go blank, and I couldn’t answer questions on the spot. Even when I managed to respond, my thoughts came out disjointed. That’s why I dreaded oral exams. During written tests, I often ran out of time, leaving a few questions unanswered. It’s honestly surprising that I passed Algebra in high school, since it would take me a long time to solve each problem.
In a Western style duel, I would probably get shot first because I’m not quick on the draw. If there was a cartoon character called Speedy Gonzalez, I was Slowpoke Gonzalez.
Driven by the urgent need to earn an income and support my growing family, I entered the corporate world as an advertising copywriter. My natural biological wiring completely changed. I fell into a routine of chasing the next due date-rent, utilities, loan payments, and more. The sad thing is I got used to that kind of life.
I pushed myself to think and write fast because deadline for creative concepts was always yesterday.
Before long, office colleagues nicknamed me ‘the quick nick of time’ for my impressive ability to complete tasks and submit copy requirements at lightning speed.
I ate fast-often on the run-between meetings. I learned to elbow past rival passengers to squeeze into crowded jeepneys. Sometimes, I clung to the handle of a moving bus and stood precariously on the ‘estribo’ of a full bus to get to Makati during rush hour.
My blood pressure started shooting up and at age 40, I was on maintenance. My pulse beat was high. My doctor said I was pre-diabetic. My stomach acidity went several notches higher.
Then Covid put everything on pause. Like everyone else, I was forced to press the brakes. In that pause, I did some self-reflection and realized that my relentless push to move faster had taken a toll on me physically, emotionally, and psychologically. I kept trying to perform constantly, and it hollowed me out little by little. I was not having fun.
During the first days of the national shutdown, I felt uneasy about the 9-to-5 rhythm I’d spent years getting used to. Then, unexpectedly, something shifted – exhilaration. I woke up without pressure, stopped checking the clock, and put my cellphone on mute.
With time to spare and no looming deadlines, I returned to long-neglected book reading and began writing essays. I was able to think, focus, and linger on my work-free to step away whenever I needed, without pressure.
I began to breathe easy and deeply; before that, my breathing had been rapid and shallow. I stopped gobbling my food and instead nibbled slowly, savoring the flavors of fish, meat, and vegetables. Whereas I previously gulped three or four cups of coffee a day, this time I took my time to sip it, even trying to notice the subtle differences among the varieties we had at home-some of which friends had given me as gifts.
I even took up a casual hobby-backyard composting-hoping to enrich the soil and learn the knack for recycling, which was then just beginning to catch my interest.
It was a change of pace, one I quickly came to enjoy. I soon felt slow footed again, and my reflexes dulled. In return, living was fun again.
That’s why, when the shutdown was lifted, I didn’t want to return to our office. I wasn’t interested in joining the scramble toward the ‘future’ in the post-Covid world. After all, I could survive on online consulting and gig work, especially as outsourcing creative jobs became the new norm.
Upon deeper reflection, I realized I was not a lesser person because I’m a ‘slowpoke.’ Yes, I move differently-but not because I’m a laggard. It’s because I’m a circumspect and cautious person. I move deliberately and attentively. I don’t want to be rushed into doing anything. When I act, I prefer to do it at my own pace and on my own terms.
I don’t completely reject my harried past as a working man. After all, I lived in that pace for over 40 years. It taught me what it feels like to live in the fast lane-constantly pressured by time and competing concerns. Now I’m half Speedy Gonzalez and half Slowpoke Gonzalez: I can switch to being a ‘quick nick of time’ when I need to, but I do it with deliberate awareness, in the spirit of the Roman motto Festina lente-‘make haste slowly.’
As someone once said, a man is defined by his contradictions as much as his ultimate choices. I choose to be defined not as the ‘quick nick of time,’ but as ‘slowpoke nick.’ In the final leg of my journey, I make a deliberate transition from the fast lane to the slow lane.
After years of being like a hamster running on a wheel, I have decided to practice what I call ‘The Art of Unhurried Living.’
‘Unhurried Living’ is a conscious choice to unplug oneself from urgency and pressure. It rejects hustle culture and prioritizes mental well-being over constant stress.
It fits my slowpoke nature perfectly. It means giving myself permission to move as slowly and leisurely as I want-letting others race like the proverbial hare while I savor the walk at a turtle’s pace.
I keep my phone on airplane mode for short periods throughout the day to help me reset and disconnect. During this time, I don’t receive texts, e-mails, or calls-I’m no longer living on call.
I do not hesitate to say ‘let me think about that.’ This gives me the space to absorb, masticate, and digest something before I make a decision.
I walk more often. To me slow leisure walking is the best way to process my daily thoughts and emotions. I hear myself. I notice things. I see things more clearly and logically.
Slowness brings mindfulness, which stretches time. I want to savor every moment, extracting joy and meaning without rushing. It feels like hiking a trail that constantly widens-revealing new landscapes and details I used to overlook.
I am no longer concerned about reaching the destination. To me it’s this slow journey that matters. It is a journey that never ends.