Onlooker Slowdown

Can we be vigilant for awe instead of danger?

May was a hard month for me. For the first few weeks, I didn’t follow my own best advice. I allowed all the news to soak in. I was swamped by it, helpless and alone, submerged by the torrent of cruelty and lawlessness. I write about trauma, treated it professionally in others for years and know all about responses to extreme danger imperiling the integrity of the self; I am not immune to the impact.

I allowed the constant reports of efforts to destroy democracy, culture, universities and health, the masked men whisking people away, the evil and grift to gain a hypnotic hold on me. I was unable to tear my eyes or thoughts away too much of the time. With that dominant narrative, I became mired, felt powerless and exhausted. I knew it was happening, I just couldn’t seem to fix it. Taking a break was essential to break the spell.

In late May, I took a solo road trip. Driving up I-95 to D.C. I was reminded of the phenomenon of onlooker slowdown. Traffic would move along, then suddenly slow for no apparent reason. First a clumping, then a stop followed by creeping forward only to reach a random point where cars moved freely again. Sometimes there was an incident on the shoulder, but other times it was on the far side of the highway. Both caused onlooker slowdown. We can’t look away; everyone going both directions gets stuck in the process.

That, of course, is a tactic of authoritarian regimes. Keep the multi-car pileups coming, either in our lane or on the periphery; bring normal daily life to a halt. Keep us guessing when and where the next attack will come so that we proceed at a crawl searching the surroundings for danger. The hypervigilance of traumatic overload wears at us. We become immobilized by fear or grief, our negativity bias in control.

My week away gave me the break I needed. I like driving long distances, feeling the expanse of our nation unspool before me. After reuniting overnight with one of my besties in Arlington, I pointed the car towards Gettysburg. Continuing north, I drove next to the mile-wide Susquehanna rolling green towards Chesapeake Bay. Horse-drawn Amish buggies trotted along the shoulder. Then, curved roads hugging Allegheny mountainsides, winding up and up to the Southern Tier of New York and the rolling hills of the Finger Lakes. Our country is so large; the reality of how miniscule I am became evident. Rather than being overwhelming, the vastness felt empowering; it was apparent that while I do what I can, our country is enormous. There are other people working to make change in this country I was journeying through. I can impact only my small sphere.

While in Western New York, I visited a favorite park where hundreds of lilacs, deep purple, lavender and white bloomed on green hillsides studded with small white daisies. I spent time with dear friends, had dinners out. We laughed together, shared updates and reminisced. I visited favorite shops, purchasing my favorite Italian olive oil and Finger Lakes Roasters coffee. I slowly began to reach escape velocity from the gravitational pull of the news. I’d been a pathetic little planet circling around a toxic sun, getting burned as I stayed too close for too long.

When I returned home, tired from the traffic but restored in spirit, I decided to start anew, try for a re-set. I was intentional in pushing myself away from continuous news feeds and towards other parts of my life.

I spent more time in the garden, ripping out invasive plants and replacing them with native varieties. Digging in dirt and wrestling to remove deep root systems is centering in its absolute focus and physical exertion, as well as the sense that I was eliminating a threat. The metaphor was not lost on me.

I began limiting my media consumption while ensuring that I took some form of action most days so I didn’t feel helpless.

Speaking the truth with like-minded souls about how soul crushing this time feels provided validation and support. Finally, I began to prioritize time for creativity and finding joy.

Hope is a muscle that can atrophy without exercise. I attempt to work each day to remember that despair isn’t useful, nor is scanning the bushes endlessly for the saber-toothed tiger that may or may not jump out. Authoritarian regimes want to wear us down to grey shadows devoid of joy, filled with rage or trembling with fear, giving up because it’s too hard. We are easier to control that way and don’t fight back.

Sometimes, slowing down to scan for potential danger is critical. If you’re hiking in grizzly territory or driving in a bad storm, cautious vigilance is appropriate. Other times, it just gets in our way. Our neurobiology is designed to protect us by imparting a heightened awareness so we can fight, freeze or flee. In the continuous peril of the present moment that innate reactivity can be paralyzing. Being mindful and intentional about our choices helps override our intrinsic circuitry.

I recently began reading Maggie Smith’s book, “Dear Writer.” Smith describes how she and her children often interrupt the daily flow by calling out, “Beauty emergency!” if anyone witnesses “something that stops you in your tracks, something you have to look at right away before it’s gone. It might be a fiery pink-and-orange sunrise…or snowflakes that seem to be falling in slow motion.”

What a concept to trick our vigilant little selves, to be alert for a fleeting moment of awe instead of threat. I am adding “Beauty emergency!” to my toolbox of self-care. Consider “Beauty emergency!” as a variation on the theme of onlooker slowdown, but one in harmony with the world we aspire to, the world we are fighting to achieve.

Rx for Onlooker Slowdown:

1. Consider practicing “beauty emergency” moments.

2. Find a protest/march/rally for June 14. Being with like minded folks and embodying resistance could be nourishing while also doing the work of standing up to this regime.

3. Make your calls to your elected officials. It’s tiring and annoying, but then again, so is fascism. I often find myself putting off my calls, but always feel better after I do call. Put those numbers in your contacts. Use 5calls.org, Jessica Craven’s Chop Wood, Carry Water or just call about what is important to you. I also write the Durham Dems Action Substack and often have scripts in those posts. Right now, those of us with GOP Senators can be especially effective at calling about not raising the deficit or cutting healthcare to millions.