When Will I Know It Is Time to Leave?
“I was not surprised when I got an email through my blog, asking me how we Jews will know when ...
Donnie Rosie/Getty
“Obey the Speed Limit. Preserve Our Wildlife,” reads a sign along the lush Blue Ridge Mountain Parkway that runs from Virginia to North Carolina. A supplemental message follows below in all caps, “35 MPH MAX,” pleading drivers to take note: This parkway is not a highway.
Speed limits are a recipe for frustration for some people, causing them to travel out of sync with their own momentum. Yes, by “some people,” I mean me. After cruising Interstate 81 at 75 miles per hour for a long duration, shifting to a new velocity on the parkway felt jarring.
I confess that before seeing the sign I was engaged in a heated phone conversation with my sister. Clearly, my spiritual tools had not clicked in yet, as I hemmed and hawed about my frustration with someone who had not responded to my urgent email.
Amusingly, when I read the sign, I first bristled at the command to “Obey,” then my heart melted at “Wildlife.” I was jolted out of self-centeredness by the awareness that if I am not mindful, I increase the potential of harming others. So, I disengaged my van’s phone and reduced my speed.
I noticed my breath became deeper, my mind clearer, and my heart rate slower. Within moments, two adolescent deer bounded across the pavement. Luckily, because I was traveling slowly, I missed colliding with them. In fact, my eyes even connected for a split second with one of the beautiful creatures. At that moment, I thought, I see you. I am willing to slow down so that you will be safer. I eschew my assumed privilege of choosing my speed.
For the next 300 miles, I shared the roadway with woodchucks, red squirrels, skunks, and American black bears. Above and around me flew peregrine falcons and ravens. Stopping at scenic overlooks every few miles, I heard the calls of black-throated green warblers. Excitedly, I spotted bobolinks in meadows. Sadly, I removed more than one lifeless being from the parkway, giving them a sacred sendoff.
While most drivers think wildlife collisions are a serious issue, we prioritize ourselves over others we share roadways with most of the time. In one study, researchers suggested a few reasons why. First, we have become used to seeing road-killed animals (“exposure”). Further, perceived familiarity with roads leads people to believe they can safely drive on them at faster-than-posted speed limits. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, we are wary of the inconvenience of slowing down.
Indeed, while we may prize mindfulness on our zazen cushions, many of us revert to Andretti-mode once we get behind the wheel. But what if we didn’t? Can approaching speed limits as a spiritual practice improve our state of mind? And can it increase safety for the more-than-human world?
What if we went further? A growing movement suggests we should. Concerned about the ecological footprints of air travel, advocates for so-called slow travel encourage people to travel by land, travel at slower speeds (which use less fuel), utilize public transport when possible, and stay longer in chosen destinations (rather than hop from location to location). We animal lovers and earth warriors should take note. Whether we’re driving to work or planning our dream pilgrimage, how we journey matters.
Reframe “limits.”
Give yourself space for surprises.
Step up your mindfulness at dawn, dusk, and just after the sun sets.
Avoid “outrunning” your headlights.
Brake, don’t swerve.
With over 1.42 billion cars, 7.8 billion humans, and over 28 quintillion other-than-human beings, the planet is teeming with constant activity. Slowing down can allow our habitats to renew and our fellow earthlings to thrive. Perhaps we’ll soon find ourselves humming a playful rewrite to Sammy Hagar’s 1980s anthem. Yes, we can drive 55. And even slower.
Get this article and many more delivered straight to your inbox weekly.