Robbins: Thinking fast and slow

I do some of my best thinking on my bike. Or on my skis. Or in the shower. Or when I’m drifting off to sleep.

I suppose that’s because, except for gravel, snow snakes, frothy soap and the Sandman watching over me, my mind is free to wander. Sometimes, the eureka moments are those when I am not conscious of thinking at all. Like a watercourse, the rivulets of my tangled thoughts coalesce, strengthen and at last become a torrent carving their way towards a roiling sea of insight. 

What had once seemed ephemeral suddenly takes shape and I say to myself, “Why didn’t I think of that before?!” What had been consumed in a fog of overthinking becomes as clear as day.

I am sure that I have not coined the term, but that is what I call thinking slow.

Thinking slow is why I have developed the habit in the practice of law of producing things before they’re due. If I have a deadline 14 days out, I like to have a first draft in seven. The extra seven days then allow me to cogitate, think on it a bit, turn it over, and perhaps most importantly of all, forget about it, and let it stir the silent pot of my imagination. Many are the times that I had thought I’d found the solution to a complex problem, only to discover, after taking a first swipe at it, that my second thought, or third or fourth, was the better way to go. A howl and fist pump often accompany such epiphanies.

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One of the things I like best about the law is that you’ve got to use however good a brain God gave you.

When I was an undergrad, my first degree was in genetics. Yup, that was a long, long stretch from where I started to where I finally settled years later in the law. I was pointed towards the family trade in medicine and, before I was accepted to medical school, I had to do the pre-med dance towards that eventuality: a slew of biology, chemistry, math, physics, and associated classes; the MCAT, applications to a dozen schools, interviews, and gathering letters of recommendation that attested to the veracity of my claimed virtues. 

One such letter I requested and ultimately received was from a favorite chemistry professor who said that although he’d be happy to support me, he thought I might be better suited to medical research or another field that would challenge me to think both fast and slow. By his lights, anyway, practicing physicians were hemmed in by the urgency of now and were constrained by both necessity and volume from the luxury of thinking slow. While I was not sure then, or now, that I agreed with him, I understood his point. A researcher, as he was, or a lawyer, as I became, often has a different construct than a doc who has an emergent situation and a waiting room of patients chafing to get in.

But what of thinking fast?

That’s one of many reasons that I enjoy the law. To cross swords with an opponent, and especially when before the court, one has to have one’s wits honed to a razor’s edge. Not only does one have to know one’s case, and know the law, but agility of thought — thinking fast — is essential. When there is the thrust of a challenge, you must be prepared to parry. 

Oftentimes, it is akin to improvisational theater. 

“Hmm. I hadn’t thought of that, but I darn well better come up with an answer fast!”

It is at times shocking how you can surprise yourself. Exigency fires “fast twitch” neural circuitry and uncovers a dormant thought that, more often than not, turns out to be the right one. Had it not been kick-started into action, it might have peaceably remained in its contented somnambulance in the clement shade of inactivity. Those are eureka moments too, just ones of a more technicolor hue.

I suppose if you are a lawyer, it helps to revel in debate.

“What,” a client may ask me, “do you think about this?” Or “what should we do?”

My answer sometimes comes out as a staccato burst of thought and words. Fast thinking. And other times, I might drawl like a small-town southern sheriff and say, “Well … let me chew on that a bit,” and let the matter marinate in the thoughtful stew of my slow thinking.

Rohn K. Robbins is an attorney licensed before the Bars of Colorado and California who practices in the Vail Valley with the Law Firm of Caplan & Earnest, LLC. His practice areas include business and commercial transactions; real estate and development; family law, custody, and divorce; and civil litigation. Robbins may be reached at 970-926-4461 or Rrobbins@CELaw.com. His novels are available at fine booksellers; the latest, “Falling,” was published in November.