I’m feeling guilty watching Netflix
“I am feeling guilty watching Netflix” I said to myself after getting distracted from the series, I checked my phone if there’s any notification or email. I paused the video in the middle of an episode of Marcella, an English investigation series. There was nothing wrong with the show. The show was fantastic, I usually enjoy watching detective series, especially Nordic-Noir. The problem wasn’t the series, the problem was me. My mind couldn’t focus on the show, I was worried about work instead. I couldn’t finish not only Marcella but also the other shows. I have many shows unwatched on Netflix and Disney Plus that I subscribe to. I thought I was having ADHD or something. But no, I just feel guilty about enjoying my spare time.
We live in a productive frantic world, in an era of money and fame are likely the anthems of success. Overachievers seem to be appreciated and more compelling than those who are less productive and enjoy JOMO and free time — considered lazybones or slugs. One of those people is me, I used to enjoy playing the guitar, writing songs, or having a coffee and a cigarette on a balcony watching neighbors for 20–30 minutes, when I lived in a university dorm. But once my life entered adulthood, I’ve changed my mind.
I live in Bangkok, one of the world’s hardest-working cities where most of the people I know spend most of their waking time working, even on weekends — and they don’t remember their last vacation places. Just like me, it feels as though my leisure time is a forbidden love affair to my career. I feel bad for doing anything else besides work, even I grab a pen writing a journal that I don’t get paid for. I unaccountably question myself all the time ‘Why am I feeling guilty about watching Netflix in bed on my off days, or sit on my ass all day instead of work? Can I have a ‘La Dolce Far Niente’ or ‘ a sweetness of doing nothing’ moment that I remember from the film Eat Pray Love? Does the La Dolce Far Niente exist in society, not in the movie? I’ve realized that this feeling’s immensely toxic to me, and I need help.
During this difficult time, the COVID-19 pandemic is worsening day by day in Thailand and I have no idea how the rest of the world is dealing with it, but here feels like an apocalypse due to the government failure of vaccine procurement causing massive job losses and the increasing number of covid cases — which make the majority of people start to telecommute. The idea of work from home has proved work-life harmony to be true and prevails work-life balance. It’s given me unclear boundaries which take a toll on my personal life and cause me stress. I’ve ended up working all the time in a cubicle room with a bed next to a workstation, where my work and personal life are inseparable, I’ve been living here for 2 months without going anywhere, all restaurants and shopping malls are closed, I can’t go outside to catch up friends, plus I don’t even have time to unwind and relax in my house. For me, reading a book and watching a TV series is a luxury, I can afford them sometimes as I’ve got to have 2 jobs to do to make a living on account of the stagnating wages here.
Considering the price I need to pay for the crammed schedules that shifted me into a rat race, I’ve lost my purpose and goals and I want to reclaim that time for my personal growth and to rethink. Back in 2018, my friend gave me a book called ‘In Praise of Slowness by Carl Honore where I was introduced to the Slow philosophy; from slow food to slow sex or tantric practice (I recommend Tantra: the supreme understanding by Osho, if you’re interested in tantric practice). Apart from the movie Eat Pray Love — the book, In Praise of Slowness, made me book a ticket to Italy to explore the cult of slowness and the word ‘La Dolce Far Niente’.
In summer 2019, I spent a month in Italy on a hop farm as an exchange student and volunteer worker in Torino, Piemonte, the northern region of Italy. There was another student who also joined the program, an adventurous German named Pia who traveled from southern Italy to the north without spending any penny because she hitchhiked. I and Pia lived with Luca, a 27-year-old farmer who owns the hop farm and a local restaurant.
When I was there, there was a ceremonial spiritual therapy from South America using Ayahuasca, a psychoactive medicine — the purpose was to cure the soul, to examine deep emotion and introspective thinking.
Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to join the ceremony as I would’ve had to book months ahead. I sneaked in and showed up at the ceremony a bit after a long nap from jetlag because I wanted to see how the ceremony looked like. The attendees sat in a circle, and the shaman was playing the harp and singing in Spanish, I didn’t know the language but it sounded so beautiful. Luca told me they were talking about bad dreams and sharing stories after been taking Ayahuasca for days. We stayed in a house on the hills, 20 minutes from Torino. There were 2 houses on the property, they both were perfectly compact but the land itself was quite spacious, with a horticulture culture farm and a summer school where local children could come to visit and learn about farming and crafting around the area. I spent most of the time working with other peers; all the work I did got my hands dirty from mopping the floor to cleaning to pool to picking blackberries from the backyard, and another one that made me cry, which was peeling the onions!
We normally started working from 9 am to 1 pm, after that we could have our own time or have Pisolinos, an Italian word for a nap. I normally lingered over reading and living outdoor after lunch. In the evening, we helped each other cook dinner with the seasonal produce from the farm such as tomatoes, sweet pepper, and zucchinis. The farm was a great place to get to know the food we had every day and be grateful for having it.
Italian culture, especially the dining culture is a good example of slow movements because Italians take a siesta and eating seriously, and they are passionately immersed in doing things right when it comes to food, for instance, cooking with friends and family, setting tables with checkered tablecloths and covering wine bottles in candle wax, and lingering at the table as much as you like. In Italy, moving fast and eating fast are considered rude, I was not used to it at all, it was kind of a dining practice for me.
Even in a big city like Milano, slow movements still exist. Once I was rambling around the city for a museum tour and went to a café for a cup of espresso. I wanted to have a takeaway, but the waiter told me in a friendly manner that “Sit down. Enjoy the view. I’ll bring coffee for you” and he smiled. I took my jacket off, sat back, and watched the people walking by for almost 30 minutes even my espresso was run out! It was a one-of-a-kind experience for me to understand the slow movements.
When I came back to Thailand, I was fully immersed in the slow culture. I talked to a local street food chef for 20 minutes, watched a sunset on the balcony, and listened to a 10-minute long symphony with my eyes closed without feeling guilty. While I’m writing this down, I’ve realized that I’ve unthinkingly rushed myself all the time, and now I deserve a ‘La Dolce Far Niente’ and ‘La Dolce Vita’ moment.
