Confessions of a Speedaholic
This month, and every month, I hope to slow down.
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A month ago, I traveled home to California to visit my parents. I grew up surrounded by farms of olive trees, the smell of soft earth ripe in the air and teal stained across the sky. In the summer, butterflies blossom around the town we live in, forming clouds of mustard and black. On a drive from my house to the gym, I noticed these clouds slapping against my windshield. I attempted to slow down, yet the slowest I could drive without aggravating the cars behind me still splattered butterflies across the glass.
The environmental damage accumulated from vehicles and roads is no new knowledge to anyone. But recognizing that it was impossible to drive without slaughtering a family of butterflies made me think about how violent cars are, in addition to other man made technologies. Without cars, no similar amount of bugs would be slaughtered at the same speed, 1.35 million people would not be killed on roads around the world every year, and roadkill would cease to exist. Our inventions have always seemed a bit violent to me, in comparison to the natural world, for everything we make is in the name of bigger, better, and faster. As I sat in my car thinking about this, it occurred to me that there was an undercurrent to the violence in everything we create: speed.
The speed of cars, the speed of planes, the speed at which we manufacture goods and the speed at which we consume them — everything invented by man is, in some sense, violent, because speed itself is a violent force, and humankind is obsessed with going faster. Even if we are to forget about the environmental cost and human labor required to produce our goods (phones, laptops, highways, plastics), the narrative behind each good can still be linked to a kind of violence, in that these goods push us to live, work, and think faster, for the faster we go, the wealthier we get (though realistically, a percentage of the population demanding others go faster gets wealthier).
The narrative of speed, and the violence of it, can affect our lives in abstract ways. Personally, on days that I find myself overwhelmed with stress, it is because I am attempting to live life at a pace that is unnatural. Our younger years, though often recounted as the most fun, can also constitute some of the most pressurized points of our lives, ones in which we strive to accumulate wealth, identity, and purpose. In this period of our lives, believing that we are “behind” is an easy habit, especially in a society that equates speed with success (30 Under 30, Company B Raised $50M in One Year, so on and so forth).
Success in a capitalist context tells us that we each have expiration dates, for the most interesting stories are of those who have succeeded at a young age. We are taught to measure our worth by what we have achieved, and even moreso, what we have not. While I know this mindset is not accurate nor healthy, it is a subconscious habit — perhaps inherently Western — one that I notice and laugh at on good days, one that I succumb to and spiral towards on worse days. In the moments of my life where anxiety, uncertainty, and overwhelm paralyze me, there is always a semi-visible path to how I ended up where I am: images of myself attempting to squeeze every hour out of my day into something worthwhile, expecting myself to achieve things that are, at their core, unrealistic.
Gratitude requires time — sometimes a minute, sometimes an hour, sometimes a week. With it, the melodies of the rain outside and the textures of the trees that shiver beneath a gray sky can transform into a moment. How many plants, how many colors on the buildings, how many expressions on the faces of our friends and neighbors have gone unnoticed? I can go an entire week without stopping to think to myself: I live here, I am surrounded by my friends, I have carved out a tiny space in the world with a job, an apartment, and a community that I now call my life.
I move through the world as if life were a race to be finished, and as I sprint, demanding my body to go faster, muscles and tendons deteriorating under the force, nothing makes sense. The speed at which I move is an attempt to find reason, to find peace, for somewhere along the route of my life I started to believe that happiness was something to be found, in the form of a coveted job, a wealthier lifestyle, or another milestone checked, and that I was something to be completed.
But when I stop running, the chaos quiets into a blanket of white. The colors of the surfaces and smiles that define my days materialize back into view, and an appreciation roots at the center of my mind. When I make space for being, for existing outside of the mental treadmill of later today, later this week, later this month, it makes sense that nothing makes sense. The hopes and dreams and expectations of a life will never be lived in a single moment, which is why the stories of our lives only ever seem to make sense when viewed in retrospect. All we have is now, and if we miss it, it’s gone.
Every day, I tell myself to slow down, and every day, I am learning how to.
If you’re also in the process of slowing down, two of my favorite books on the theme are How to Do Nothing by Jenny Odell and The Creative Act: A Way of Being by Rick Rubin.
Capy Corner: The Xanax of News 🙂
For once, some good news — helping us be a little less stressy and depressy! Here’s a roundup of some wins in cultural diversity and representation for queer, BIPOC+, and womxn-identifying communities around the globe:
Women in Iceland go on strike against gender inequality, supported by the prime minister - nyt
Tens of thousands of women and nonbinary individuals in Iceland participated in a one-day strike to protest against workplace inequality and gender-based violence, marking the largest such protest in the country in nearly 50 years. Despite Iceland's reputation as a global leader in gender equality, organizers argue there's still significant progress to be made. While Iceland has led the World Economic Forum’s Global Gender Gap Report for 14 consecutive years, the wage gap remains at 21%, and recent data suggests that gains in wage and leadership representation have regressed closer to 2017 levels.
Young climate activists take European governments to court - la times
Six young activists brought a case to the European Court of Human Rights, asserting that 32 European nations are not adequately addressing climate change, thus violating their human rights. Lawyers representing these nations contested the case's admissibility and questioned if the plaintiffs genuinely qualify as victims of climate change-related harm. Although some national and regional climate cases have been successful, this lawsuit is significant, as a favorable ruling could compel governments to intensify their climate action efforts and provide a reference for future cases.
Edwaard Liang has been appointed as the new artistic director of The Washington Ballet, succeeding Julie Kent who left earlier this year. Born in Taiwan and raised in California, Liang, with this role, becomes the first person of color and the first Asian American to head an American ballet company of Washington Ballet's prominence. While he brings a wealth of experience from his previous positions, including a decade at BalletMet in Columbus, Ohio, Liang envisions a blend of classical and contemporary works for the Washington Ballet, aiming to engage the community in enriching conversations about dance.
In Taiwan, people find solace — and identity — in traditional healing - washington post
In Taiwan's Hualien County, Kulas Umo, a prominent spiritual healer or "sikawasay," practices ancient Amis rituals to heal and connect with ancestral spirits. This resurgence of traditional Amis medicine partly addresses healthcare inequalities faced by Taiwan's Indigenous communities, which differ from the Han Chinese majority. Furthermore, the revival of Indigenous practices and language strengthens the Amis identity, emphasizing Taiwan's distinct history and culture, amidst political tensions with China.
Playlist of the Week: 10 Songs for Slowing Down 🎛️
This week’s playlist features a bunch of non-house songs because sometimes we all need to just chill the f*ck out. It includes some of my favorite artists and future boyfriends (when Mijael and I build our polyamorous family, once he’s down for that 👀), namely Omar Apollo and Dominic Fike — two popstars the internet is now obsessed with (but I WAS HERE FIRST!).
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With love,
Your favorite capybara ~ AKA Travis Zane
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Sleepover is a party that turns into a sleepover, a newsletter publishing cozy content to your inbox every week, and an occasional mixed media series promoting BIPOC+, queer, and womxn-identifying creators — produced online and in print.
Thank you, Travis! Wonderful.