Slow is smooth and smooth is fast

Sunday Blog 177 – 23rd March 2025

I recently realised that I haven’t ever really blogged about the volunteer work I do in my neighbourhood. I’ve been living here for twenty-three years, and for at least fifteen off those years, I’ve moved in and out of the dance of volunteering.

There’s something vulnerable about giving up this time. Most efforts are met with social media comments along the lines of “that’s lame”, or “why don’t you do ____?” Insert very time-consuming and difficult, thankless task.

But the thrill of being part of our neighbourhood once a year Cooby Fest is intoxicating. The challenge of working with local government to try and influence a more community-driven approach to how we manage our parks, footpaths and public buildings is bracing. The green shoots of hope, such as our small, annual budget for placemaking (which a fancy term for connecting and beautifying our suburbs, organising local events, planting trees, putting in seats for people to linger, getting murals on walls etc.) keeps me going.

Another motivation is the program I recently joined to mentor people like myself who want to be place makers. The Navy Seals saying “slow is smooth, and smooth is fast” was mentioned on one of the group calls. As someone who is always in a hurry, often impatient, unable to rest when I see an undone task, relentlessly driving forward until I collapse in a heap of burnout, this saying is now stuck in my brain. What would it be like if I slowed down more, wasn’t in such a dreadful rush to get things done? It’s not like my suburb is going anywhere.

One month ago, I took my head out of the sand and began re-engaging with world events. I keep repeating the Chinese curse “may you live in interesting times” as I scroll through the news. The urge to re-cover my head is overwhelming.

But in a world where the bullies in charge need us to be frightened, polarised and fighting with each other, is neighbourhood placemaking one of the important solutions? People of all political persuasions, races and faiths live in my neighbourhood. Are low-key, organic gatherings of people one of our best protections to weather this clusterfuckery? I think yes, so will carry on with my thankless tasks in my neighbourhood, and look out for the golden moments of connection.