On Books-Slowness

I have never been a fast reader. Even as a child I took my time reading unless I  was reading a rip-roaring yarn, a great story, which made me want desperately to get to the ending so that I could satisfy my greed for the denouement.

As I grew older, I still took my time reading, depending on the subject. If it was a literary work, I would take my time to savor the writing, to learn how to make that feeling that I get when reading great writing appear in my own writing. If I am reading technical books or other non-fiction books for a class or for work, I read carefully, pour over repeatedly, and copious amounts of notes are taken to be read in my own sweet time. I read to make sure I get all the substance of what the author is communicating.

But, if I am under time pressure to complete my reading, I will speed up or skim rapidly as if I had the sword of Damocles hanging over me. That kind of reading is less than satisfying as I am consciously trying too hard to be efficient, which perversely makes me less efficient. My comprehension rate during that time is the functional inverse of my reading speed, so I end up reading the same papers and books repeatedly to gain the same kind of comprehension that I would have gained if I read slowly through the first time.

The last kind of reading is the recreational kind, where I am devouring mysteries, popular fiction, and other entertaining genres. I will admit that I don’t do too much of that anymore. I don’t know why, but they stopped being interesting to me, except for certain authors and series. Considering that this is reading for leisure, I tend to read slowly as well, except when I reach a point in the story where I start to project the eventual ending and I revert to my childhood habit of rushing through the book in search of the denouement.

I rarely go back and re-read the recreational reading books, but I recently have returned to some of what I consider to be exceedingly well written mysteries series because I lacked new reading material. The experience has been mixed. For some, rushing through the book quickly was a good strategy as I have found that the plotting or the writing left much to be desired, something that I ignored or didn’t notice the first time through. Yet for other authors and book series, I realized that I missed all the details and Easter eggs the authors had left for the readers to find. I skipped right over them the first time. A reminder from the reading gods to read slowly and pleasurably.

My preference for slow reading also influences my book collecting habits. Although I love libraries as an institution, and I am a proponent of using the library as often as possible; I prefer buying my reading material from indie and used books stores online. The reason is that I cannot stand being on a two weeklong reading treadmill, trying to finish reading a book before it is due back to the library, it is not satisfying reading. I realize I can extend the borrowing period, but there is also the fear that the library would not extend the borrowing period if the book were a popular commodity.  

So it is that when I joined Goodreads I was surprised when I discovered  all the Goodreads reading contests which promote and encourage people to read as many books as possible in a selected time period, usually a year. I understand their motivation rationally: Goodreads is owned by Amazon and Amazon wants to sell books; I get it. My surprise is that there are so many who have taken on these challenges willingly. I could see where that challenge could be attractive to many people. I'm just not one of them. I had not realized that reading has attain the status of a competitive sport.

Even though my friends know me as an avid reader, I don't go through as many books as my friends think I do.

I was thinking about this as I was reading a book by Frédérick Gros, a French philosopher. The book is titled: A Philosophy of Walking. (Gros, 2011) The subject of chapter 5 of this book on walking was about Slowness. My mind immediately drew parallels between the walking experience that Gros is describing and my own reading habit of reading slowly.

Gros’ point is that the walking activity needs to be the focus of the walking activity. Indeed, there are other focuses to be undertaken as we walk: to get in shape, to race from point A to point B in minimal time. If indeed, walking is your focus, then speed should not be the focus, walking should be the focus. If one is walking while focusing on pace, then one is missing out on the greatest benefit of walking: to be absorbed in the experience of walking, to be in the flow of walking, to lose yourself in the act of walking, to gain the unconscious perspective that is walking.

Turning to my parallel viewpoint.  If indeed, reading is your focus, then reading quickly should not be the focus, reading should be the focus. If one is reading while focusing on pace, then one is missing out on the greatest benefit of reading: to be absorbed in the act of reading, to be in the flow of reading, to lose yourself in the act of reading, to gain the unconscious perspective that is reading.

Many of the things that Gros said about walking applies to my idea of reading.

Slow is not the opposite of fast. Slow is the opposite of haste. Making haste in reading, as in walking,  is to create an unnecessary and unwelcomed pressure within our psyche to hurry what is natural so that we end up in an unnatural state of haste.

Gros said that there must be an extreme regularity of paces, to apply a uniformity to walking; so it is with reading as well. In order to derive pleasure from reading, to gain perspectives of what is being read, to gain understanding, to allow the mind to contemplate the beauty, cadence, and structure of what is being read; there must be an extreme regularity of paces, to apply a uniformity to reading. This is an impossibility if the speed of reading is aligned with making haste, with consuming the words mechanistically, as opposed absorbing the meanings, digesting the ideas, contemplating the way the ideas are communicated, and appreciating the artistry of the writer.

Gros believes that there is an illusion associated with  speed, that walking speedily saves time. This illusion also exists with reading, reading quickly, and skimming haphazardously will save the reader time. What to do with all that saved time? Inevitably, it is to re-read what was missed in reading the first time while in a heated rush.

Haste and speed accelerate the passing of time; yet it also means that the reader is not fully using. The slowness of reading deepens the space that the reader inhabits in the minds of the writer, whereas reading in haste makes the space around the reading more shallow.

Walking slowly makes the natural landscape become more familiar for the walker. Reading slowly  makes the writer’s written landscape become more familiar for the reader. After all, that is the greatest of reading pleasures.

According to Gros, when the walker is fully engrossed in the act of walking, it isn’t the walker that moves, it is the landscape that moves around the walker. Same could be said about reading:  when the reader is fully engrossed in the act of reading, it isn’t the reader that moves through what is written, it is the written  that moves around the reader.

This short contemplation about reading  has led me to think about my reading habits. I realize that as I slow down the pace of my reading,  my familiarity with the author’s world grows. The more deliberate I become, the slower I read. There is much to be gained from reading slowly. I grew to be more appreciative of the writing itself. Of course, when it comes to reading a rip-roaring yarn, a great story; I will need to consciously discipline myself to avoid haste, to practice what I preach.

Works Cited

Gros, F. (2011). A Philosophy of Walking. London: Verso Books.

 

 

Volleyball Coaching Life-“Why Do I Coach?”

It is the end of the high school season for many volleyball coaches, while some others are still in the fight for state championships.

Regardless of the results of the season, everyone is breathing a sigh of relief after an intense few months, a time period that seems both extremely short and extremely long. While talking to some of my coaching friends who coach in the Fall, I got a sense that all is not well, worse than the usual end of the season lament.

Coaching is always stressful and stress affects people differently. The feedback is immediate, and as coaches, we are constantly challenged by the competition, the group dynamics inherent in dealing with teams, the level of player maturity, and the interactions with people outside the team, namely administrators, parents, and others. Those are the known factors that have been the nature of coaching since time immemorial.

It seems, however, that more than usual number of my friends are dealing with more challenges than usual this season, much more than any other previous seasons. One factor that comes immediate to mind is the 800-pound gorilla in the room: the pandemic effect on the players and adults. As we want to put that challenge behind us and believe that we have all survived the pandemic unscathed, the truth is that the impact of three years of isolation on coaches, the players, and their adults are yet undetermined. No doubt an army of bright doctoral students in a myriad of subjects will study the daylights out of this period in our history and will enlighten us about the effect of forced isolation on our mental health many years from now. It is unfortunate  that these future academics can’t tell us what the hallmarks of these effects on human are immediately, because we need the information to help us navigate our present; indeed, we need the information just to survive.

Another concomitant factor has a much longer time scale: the slow devolution of our collective mental health while living and dealing with modernity. Many people in the mental health field have told me that the collective mental state of our society is not so robust; that the known negative signs of mental state had risen inexorably, well before the onset of the pandemic. The merging the effects of the long and short-term mental stresses is a perfect storm, which manifests itself in many new ways. The problem that we see in this instant appears to be  ambiguous and amorphous as we are not cognizant of the telltale signs because we don’t know what those telltale signs are a priori. More insidiously, synergistic effects of the long term and short-term stresses may be magnifying the stresses exponentially, without us realizing its potency.

I believe that we need to revisit our personal coaching philosophies and answer the question: “Why Do I Coach?” at the end of every season. It helps us to mentally align our own motivations in context of our realities. This practice will either reinforce our resolve, to give us a reason to continue what we are doing; or give us a reason to call it a day. A look back at our past, our foundational philosophy, helps us to gain a perspective on why we feel the way we feel at the moment and broaden our focus from the daily grind of coaching. “Why Do We Coach?” is a good starting question to ask.  

“I got into coaching for the money”, said no one ever. Most of us started out as volunteers, serving our apprenticeship while learning the vast body of knowledge that is coaching volleyball. A vast expanse of knowledge that encompasses the technical, tactical, intellectual, pedagogical, and psychological aspects of the seemingly disparate, infinite, and complicated range of human endeavors. What keeps us in the coaching cult is, by implication, also very complicated.

We can roughly divide the reasons or rewards for continuing to coach into two broad categories: the extrinsic and the intrinsic. We are all seeking some kind of reward in all that we do. This is not to say that we are all slobbering dogs in a surreal video taking place Pavlov’s laboratory. On the other hand, we are all very needy for incentives to motivate us.

The extrinsic reward for coaching is mostly about recognition. Being recognized for excellence in our coaching, in our administration of the team, our knowledge of the sport of volleyball, our secret knowledge of how to succeed.

The intrinsic reward for coaching is mostly about satisfaction. Being satisfied with reaching the goals established prior to the season. Satisfaction with our own personal progress on our journey toward mastering the art of coaching.  Satisfaction with knowing that our coaching made the difference for our players, whether it is for the individual, a group of players, or the entire team. Part of the intrinsic satisfaction comes from knowing that we are  contributing to the village which guided and educated an outstanding human being.

In many ways, extrinsic recognition is about how others think of us; their value systems and judgements all intermingling with the facts of the situation.  In the Stoic sense, the extrinsic recognition is completely out of our control as the recognition comes from others, their opinions, personal mythologies, and biases play significant roles in how that recognition is delivered, what form that recognition manifests itself, and whether the recognition is given at all.  

Intrinsic satisfaction comes from how we view ourselves. In the Stoic sense, the intrinsic satisfaction is completely within our control as the satisfaction derives from our own assessment, our reaction to our perception of the factual events. There are no external recognitions involved so the feelings that we feel are completely up to us.

As we are complex beings, the extrinsic recognition and intrinsic satisfaction are always mixed as we assess the results from coaching. We will, more often than not, mistake our personal need  for intrinsic satisfaction with our ego’s desire for extrinsic recognition. We will look for appreciation/recognition  from others as a validation of those things where intrinsic satisfaction should be plentiful reward. This thinking is what sometimes creates tension within our minds because we are all Pavlov’s dogs when it involves our egos. It matters to us that what we do matters to others. It matters that the recognition of others about what we do, as ephemeral as that recognition is, is expressed for all to take in and note.

Am I stating that we are all fools for public adulation? No.

I am saying that public adulation does not hurt our feelings.

Should that hunger for public recognition be the main driver of our efforts? Should that recognition be the main motivation for what we do? Is it the reason “Why We Coach?” I don’t know. I can’t speak for others.

I do know that I don’t flinch or run away from recognition, and I must be vigilant in observing my reaction to the recognition, and do emotional triage on my reactions to what happens so that I can separate those recognitions that is out of my control with the satisfaction that I derive from my reactions that are within my control.

My hope is my friends can have the time and peace, critical thinking skills, and mental acuity in these difficult times to sort through their realities from their myths, their long term state of personal joy from their short term moment in hell, and the validity of their long term personal philosophies from their transient unhappy reaction to an unpleasant reality.

In short, I wish for them. Wisdom.