Effortless Effort

We associate effort with strain. The strain is extra, almost always unnecessary, and generally a source of suffering. Lose the strain. Ease up on the gas. Driving home from Queens – the traffic is always terrible – sitting in bumper-to-bumper, I realize how less stressful it is to drive 10 miles per hour than 60.

We are so often in a hurry. We humans are the only animals that worry about arriving late. Instead of being present, we’re chafing to get to the next step, the next stop. We’re rushing through our lives, but time is something we’ve invented. Time is in our minds. We’re in such a hurry. My first social work mentor taught me a wonderful lesson: There’s nothing so important that it can’t wait until tomorrow.

There’s always some place else we need to be, the next project, the next step on the career ladder. Hurry. Let’s get this done. Move on. I wasn’t being cynical when I advised younger associates to get their first marriage over with. I was hurtling through time, focused on outcomes, maybe part of my early conditioning. Almost always the important thing in school was the grade. Courses were boxes to be checked on the way to graduation. When a psychotherapy patient told me to dress for my next job, I thought this was wonderful advice.

Effortless effort was there to be learned. Someone tried to tell me to grip the tennis racket less tightly. I couldn’t do it. Someone else warned me about white-knuckle Zen. At the time, I thought I understood, but did I?

Maybe this is the gift of retirement: taking my foot off the gas. I’ve slowed down. I’m getting my steps in, but it takes me longer than it did even three years ago. I don’t have to be anywhere other than where I am. I don’t have to be doing anything other than what I’m doing now. I keep walking. I keep writing. I keep teaching. I’m doing the chores that need doing, but the strain is gone. I’m breathing.