Never Not Working—Until I’m Finally Not

Disconnecting To Reconnect & The Art of Slow

Morning on the Skagit River, Washington, USA -Watch in full screen

Alarm clock begins its build from a quiet tone and gradually gets louder. In a panic, I smash whatever button I can find. This isn’t my phone. It’s a real, old school alarm clock. Reluctantly, I place a foot on the ground and glance at my 4-year-old and my wife. There’s a gravity keeping me there, cozy, warm. My motivation presses my foot into the ground and I finally stand, nearly stepping on my overweight border terrier in the process. She sighs. I walk to the dresser, pull out my thick wool socks, pick up my slippers, and find my way to the kitchen. The “big light” comes on and it hurts. I flip on the fan above the stove to drown out the noise, set the kettle, and measure the coffee beans at 84g—just right for a 4-cup pour. After a few minutes, the water has boiled. I rinse out the paper filters in the Kalita Wave, and my morning ritual begins.

This is every morning. I don’t set a timer on an automatic coffee maker. I don’t press a button and jump on my laptop. Just the slow moment of stretching between spiral pours and the smells of the naturally processed single origin that was painfully picked. I’m at an existential crisis every time I think of the amount of work that went into each one of the cherries picked, dried, and shipped all the way from its origin. It’s a long, slow process. All of it. Right to the cup.

This is actually a Sunday morning. Once the coffee is made, I leave my wife a love note, make my way to the door, taking my time so that I don’t forget anything (especially my coffee). There’s a fall chill in the air, light mist coating the Subaru. I toss in my pack containing my camera, Jetboil (for more coffee), fly boxes, leaders, sink tips—all the little things a day on the river may require. Still, I feel like I’m keeping it simple. It’s 90 minutes to my favorite spot on the river.

Up until recently, I would hustle too fast to get to the river. Time is limited as a parent of 3 and a job like mine. You forget to slow down. Always. When rushed, I would get to the river sometimes without my boots. Sometimes without my reel. One Time I drove a lot of hours to Oregon just to find that I didn’t even have my rods. Everything about the act of fly fishing is slow-the-heck-down. You get caught in trees, drop your fly boxes in the river and watch them float down stream, I’ve even let my net unknowingly float away. This doesn’t just apply to fly fishing. That’s just a hobby that reminds me that if I don’t slow down, I’m going to be miserable. Unless it’s on my bike.

Arriving at the storied Skagit river just before 7am, I have my rods already rigged in this goofy rack that sits on top of our car. Much like AI, I have a few gadgets that assist in making life more convenient and speed things up, just a little. Traffic on the hwy that runs through Rockport is already speeding by. It’s raining and I do everything I can to hustle away from the cars creating unhealthy levels of cortisol. I hike down a short path into a back eddy that’s nearly still and shallow from the low flows. I begin to walk as quickly as possible over the slick river rock, using every muscle in my feet to keep balance. I smell the faint scent of decaying pink salmon on the banks. The plants and animals all need this time for the eco system to remain healthy. This is a special moment. I want to capture it on video and try some coloring techniques later. I purposefully left my D-SLR at home sue to the rain, so I reached into my wader pocket for my phone. Nothing. Nearly 3 football fields away from the entrance to the river, little hike up to the car and my phone. In my haste I left the device in the front seat. Trying not to shame myself, I place my gear on the rocks and make the hike back. This is a busy river this time of year, so I’m in hopes someone doesn’t come down to the run I love to spend the day on.

The company I worked for grew fast when demand increased. They hired more people, opened stores nationwide, spent a lot on productions, and added brands. When demand dropped, they had to constantly put everything on sale. It became a nonstop struggle with no time for new ideas or stories. Emails went out too often, and people unsubscribed. The creative work suffered, with too many sales and mixed messages. Our creative director left, and only project managers tried to manage the chaos. We rarely got a break, and even on vacations, I had to work. This led to layoffs. Eventually, new leadership slowed things down. We couldn’t fully refocus, but we began to see mistakes and work together better.

When you slow down and focus on one task, you can get into a flow state. Trying to do multiple things at once and rush through them may seem like an efficient use of time, but it ultimately leads to consequences that are often expensive and avoidable. The slower pace of creativity allows time to explore and play.

Yes, we now can do amazing things with artificial intelligence. We can make ads and feature films! It’s a miracle to the marketing world that just wants to pump out content. The customer sees through it, and the soul of the brand is lost. The soul of most brands is the people.

I won’t get into the debate about the use of AI, but we can use it to our advantage when exploring creative ideation. Personally, I need paper and pencil, books of photographs, and movies to ideate. When time is taken to concept a project, we’re often open to new ideas, challenges, and ways of making things better through team collaboration. We’re not pushing people out of the way to get something done more quickly.

That day on the river, I told myself to slow down. Take a few breaths. Sit down to a coffee and watch the water. Listen to the world around. The river is alive and talking to you when you slow down enough.

I’d never caught salmon in a river until that day. It was maybe my third time out swinging a two-handed rod. I managed to land two beautiful fish and return them to the wild. My heart was full, and I could return home ready to embrace my family, make a delicious meal that takes a while to cook. Nourished in so many ways, I could return to work with an open mind and the ability to focus.

Take a moment. Take a walk. Sketch. Stretch. Say hi to someone and have a conversation. Read a book rather than open your laptop or phone. It doesn’t have to be some grand adventure to tell you to take it slow. My wife is an early childhood educator. Her mascot is the snail. There are ways to make things more efficient in our workflow, but we can do what we need to create better work. You won’t believe how much better you’ll be at work and in your personal life. —This is also a reminder to myself.

Instant coffee from Northern Coffeeworks always helps efficiency.