Balancing Boredom & Busyness, Part 3: The Value of Going Slow, to Go Fast
In this final essay from Balancing Boredom & Busyness, Amber Hammargren explores how slowing down—allowing for stillness, rest, and reflection—makes space for mastery, meaning, and joy.
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When learning becomes a race, we lose sight of what it means to grow.
This essay is the final part of a series by educator Amber Hammargren. Read part one and two to complete the series.
Disciplines and arts all have sayings that impart this wisdom: a well-practiced skill learned precisely yields remarkable speed and confidence, while haste in the learning process ultimately costs more time and produces a sloppy result. We must stand before we walk, and walk before we run. When mastery and depth of understanding are the true prize, we must slow down and allow our minds and bodies to fully integrate new knowledge. This internal consistency, fostered within each student, is where true mastery lies. Not only is this process needed for adult learning, it is even more urgent for children. How can children be expected to write with nuance, clarity, and complexity when they are not allowed the time to think, reflect, and converse deeply with peers and elders? When they are constantly rushed from one concept or activity to another—without allowing their experiences to sort and sift through their minds—they are deprived of the ability to make connections and find relevance in their learning. When they have limited access to meaningful conversation with elders, children are deprived of additional perspectives and knowledge to place their learning in a wider context.
I am in a season of life that is famously busy, with a career and two children and a home to keep running smoothly. I squeeze reading and learning into the tiny cracks of time, between the myriad and unending tasks that everyday life requires right now. As I read, I ache for time to let it all sink in slowly, to allow my thoughts to go on adventures and return with new insights. For time to converse with friends on what we have read and to write in journals regularly and unhurriedly. There is a quiet rebellion in refusing to rush. In a world that screams that speed is everything, there is power in reclaiming your own tempo. It is when water is close to still that the silt settles so that we can see clearly into the depths—oh, there is motion in those waters, but it is slower and more subtle. Likewise, when we slow down, we notice details and connections that escape our attention when we hurry.
There will always be joy and satisfaction in learning swiftly; it feels like flying, full of exhilaration and novelty. But as I mature in my own learning, I am discovering a love for learning slowly too, and I am finding that it feels like hiking. It is deliberate and intentional. It savors the details along the way as much as the awe-inspiring views from the mountaintop. It rewards preparation, alertness, and care. It does not mask the feelings of exertion, and somehow that increases the sense of satisfaction when it is time to rest.
There is space held for discovering hidden pathways and new destinations, for wonder and for wandering. It honors the need to rest, refuel, and recover before setting a new bearing on your compass and setting forth again. Both speeds of learning lead to breathtaking beauty and discovery, and both provide joy and satisfaction along the way if only we allow ourselves to acknowledge those moments. By allowing ourselves to vary our speeds—to not always be in flight—we offer our minds and bodies all the different sensations we need to thrive.
Movement and stillness, challenge and rest, resistance and recovery—we need them all.
I remember the offhand wisdom of my father, who quipped (only half in jest) that “balance is a good thing” while holding a bowl of Chex Mix in one hand and a bowl of chocolate candies in the other.
And I realize that, both as a teacher and a student, I seek the balance between boredom and busyness.
If this reflection resonates, share it with someone who’s still trying to rush through life.
About Amber
Amber Hammargren is an educator and the Director of Ember Commons, where she helps others slow down enough to notice what matters. Her first workshop, How to Build a Plane While Flying It, concludes this week—an experiment in learning that moves at the speed of life.
Balancing Boredom & Busyness closes as it began—with an invitation to move at a human pace. Across three essays, Amber Hammargren has guided us through what it means to practice patience in a hurried world: the quiet rebellion of attention, the difference between mastery and mere consistency, and the value of slowing down to truly learn.
If you missed earlier installments, start with Part I and Part II. Together, they form a meditation on learning, growth, and the spaces between.
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