Be Slow Now

Oct 5

Why we long to slow down and how to claim slowness as space to rest, listen, and know

There is an ever-growing interest and appreciation for slowness. This expanded resonance with slowing down has been building for some time. I myself have been writing and teaching and working with slowness for over a decade (the ideas and energies of slowness weren’t new when they found me, I simply started to listen to them). Two years ago, I remember thinking we were at a turning point, that surely 2020 would bring us to a deep reset, a beautiful reseeing of how we approach our lives and the workings of the world.

In a way this is happening. There are more and more people reimagining their lives—how they work, where they live, how they define their value and purpose. And yet I sense, overall, that as the longing for slowness expands, the presence of it in many people’s lives, actually feels farther and farther away.

Why?

On one level this is because slowness is routinely framed in romantic, semantical, and surface-level ways. It’s also because feelings (and beliefs) that emerge in slowness are often uncomfortable and disorienting, so slowness tends to be avoided, postponed, or rationalized away. (See an earlier essay, Some Slowness, December 2020).

On another level, the unreachability of slowness is because of energetics. When the request is one of longing for something (e.g., wanting more slowness), the energy of the want-wish-hope-aspiration is what expands. The desire feels stronger because you are receiving what you asked for—the longing.

How can we live into slowness in ways that are deeply grounded, integrated, and present? We must allow ourselves to expand into slowness as a space and practice how to attune to where this space lives in us now.

To begin: Let yourself be present with slow-slowness-slowing down. Whatever this means to you. Close your eyes and be. Let yourself see what you see, hear what you hear, feel what you feel. Be as you are with what’s there. Notice what you think about, how your body feels, what you sense. Invite slowness to reveal itself to you, let it show you something new, connect with the aliveness of what it knows.

Slowness is a space because it brings us into it. When we slow down, we move more deeply into ourselves. Our breath shifts, our body relaxes, we stretch into what we need. We find more space to take up, to explore, to live into being.

Space to Rest.

When you say the word “slow,” think “let me slow down,” or take a breath, you gift yourself with rest. To pause in a moment (watch a bird, notice a child take a step, savor a bite of apple) is rest. To smile, laugh, smell a flower, thank a friend, take a long sip of water, feel the in-out of your belly, notice a shadow—these are all moments of rest. Pause as rest. Appreciation as rest.

If you find yourself “longing for” slowness, your nervous system is telling you what it needs. Slowness opens a pathway for you to connect with your nervous system in an ongoing way, to stay in touch with your body, your breath, and what you need to be healthy and whole. Your longing for it is a nudge, a reminder to attune right now to slowness as rest.

Slowness invites rest and rest brings in more slowness. It’s an endlessly regenerative cycle of goodness. If you long for a “perfect” time when you will finally get to “rest,” it won’t ever come. The only thing that will grow will be your longing for it (and your stress levels for not giving yourself what you need). Space for rest grows with each moment we choose to be inside it now.

Space to Listen.

When we attune to slowness we expand into new ways of listening. We tune into frequencies beyond the narrow frames (efficiency, productivity, urgency, us-them, consumption, improvement) that fuel the workings of mainstream culture. We connect more deeply with spirit, with the energies of wonder and curiosity, with the wisdoms of ancestors, creatures, and the soil.

When we feel a desire to slow down, this means there is something for us to hear. Sensations of longing are instructive messages. They signal that there is something for us to receive, learn, and integrate into our living. When we dismiss the message as ____ (impractical, something for later, impossible, not real), we deny ourselves what we most need to hear. Yet, the longing tends to get stronger because the message must get louder to get you to listen.

To get what you need, the action is to acknowledge slowness, say hello to the feeling when you notice yourself wanting to slow down. Say yes to it. Let yourself pause, take a breath, be present in a moment—go into the space of slow and what needs to happen will happen. You’ll receive what you’re meant to receive. You’ll hear what you need to hear. You’ll find more of yourself. And through practice (each time you choose to acknowledge your intuition for slowness) your listening will potentiate.

Space to Know.

When we let ourselves enter slowness, we access a space of knowing that comes from deep inside ourselves. A knowing based in trust and love. A knowing that feels true, authentic, and congruent with our wholeness. We allow ourselves to know from a soulful place, deeply rooted, and without any need to prove, compare, be right, fight, or take flight.

The world is noisy. There are endless opportunities to agree, disagree, like, unlike, follow, buy, position, claim, fix, or improve. The external world tries to frame your navigation system, tell you that you need something more, better, other than what you already have inside you. Yet your longing for slowness tells you otherwise. It nudges you to stop, go into the space of slowing down, listen, and find what you already know.

Knowing grows from letting yourself unknow what you’ve been told about “knowing” (that you need to look outward). Your knowing will never come from outside of you. And your search for it elsewhere will only keep you removed from the one space where you can breathe, be, and remember who you are.

Slowness is a revolutionary act. Do you feel the frequency of this? Do you trust that this is true? If so, you need to claim it. Not by agreeing with the idea. Slowness isn’t an idea. Not by wishing things would slow down. Wishing keeps slow separate from you now.

We claim slowness by accepting its invitation to come inside. We let ourselves feel the expanse of its space—to rest, to listen, to know—and everything begins to shift.

love+light, Melissa