Slowing down
Embracing a slow living philosophy brings us peace, clarity & mental balance.
Go Slow
How Slow Living Can Improve Mental Wellbeing
The feeling of being constantly rushed and overwhelmed is not just a state of mind; it has a tangible effect on your nervous system. When you are in a state of chronic busyness, your sympathetic nervous system, often known as the “fight-or-flight” response, is perpetually activated. This leads to a steady release of stress hormones like cortisol, which, over time, can have detrimental effects on your physical and mental health. Slow living, with its emphasis on intentionality and mindfulness, acts as a direct counterbalance to this state of hyperarousal.
By consciously slowing down, you engage the parasympathetic nervous system, the body’s “rest-and-digest” system. This shift helps to lower your heart rate, reduce blood pressure, and promote a sense of calm and relaxation.
The practice of slow living also has a profound impact on your emotional regulation. When you are constantly rushing, you have little time to process your emotions, leading to reactive and often unhelpful responses. By creating space in your life, you can cultivate a greater sense of self-awareness, allowing you to observe your emotions without judgment and respond to situations with more thought and intention.
This increased emotional intelligence not only improves your relationship with yourself but also enhances your connections with others. When you are more present and emotionally available, you can listen more deeply, communicate more effectively, and build stronger, more meaningful relationships.
From a clinical perspective, slow living can be seen as a powerful therapeutic tool. For individuals struggling with anxiety, burnout, and depression, the principles of slow living can offer a path toward healing and recovery. Many mental health professionals now incorporate elements of slow living into their practice, helping clients to reclaim a sense of agency over their lives and their nervous systems. By teaching clients to embrace stillness, set boundaries, and prioritize self-care, therapists can empower them to break free from the cycle of chronic doing and find a more balanced and sustainable way of life.
The resistance to slowing down is often deeply ingrained. For many, busyness serves as a defense mechanism, a way to avoid uncomfortable feelings or unmet emotional needs. The fear is that if we stop, we will be confronted with the very things we have been trying to outrun.
However, it is often in these moments of stillness that true healing can begin. By allowing ourselves to feel and process our emotions, we can begin to address the root causes of our distress and move toward a more authentic and fulfilling life.
The slow living movement, while often framed as a personal lifestyle choice, has deep roots in a broader critique of modern consumer culture and its psychological consequences. Originating from the Slow Food movement in 1980s Italy, which was a direct response to the homogenization and acceleration of food production, the philosophy of “slowness” has expanded to challenge the pervasive ideology that “faster is always better.” This ideology, as argued by scholars like Carl Honoré, has created a society that is constantly in a hurry, leading to a collective sense of time poverty and a diminished quality of life. The slow living movement, therefore, can be understood as a form of cultural resistance, a conscious effort to reclaim time as a public good and to prioritize human well-being over economic efficiency.
From a sociological perspective, the relentless pace of modern life is not a natural or inevitable phenomenon but a product of specific social and economic structures. The demands of the 24/7 global economy, coupled with the rise of digital technologies that blur the boundaries between work and leisure, have created a culture of perpetual connectivity and availability. This has led to a “social acceleration,” a term coined by sociologist Hartmut Rosa, which describes the increasing speed of social change and the corresponding pressure on individuals to keep up.
The result is a sense of alienation, a feeling of being disconnected from oneself, from others, and from the natural world. Slow living, in this context, offers a way to counteract this acceleration by fostering a deeper connection to place, to community, and to the rhythms of nature.
(Article extracted from: lifestyle.sustainability-directory.com)
Our Guide to Slow Living
6 simple ways to live slow today
Mental Health / Self-Care
We all know balanced eating, exercise and plenty of rest is good for the body. Daily pauses, like meditation or journaling are great ways to tend to your mind. Talking about your experiences can provide relief as well. Seek support from friends, family and community.
Buy Less / Choose Better
Prioritize quality over quantity. Choose timeless, classic styles and durable materials that will stand the test of time and won’t go out of fashion in all things you buy. This will lead to less waste and more worth to your dollars.
De-Clutter / Organize
Start with the smallest room in your home. Pick up an item. Make a decision: trash, give away or keep. Don’t put it back in the pile. Do this with the entire room. Take before and after photos to motivate yourself to organize regularly.
Spend Your Time Wisely
Choose meaningful experiences that will truly bring joy to your day instead of cramming your schedule with tons of activities. Establish routines or small traditions that you can look forward to, such as a weekly family dinner or a monthly outing with friends.
Embrace Mindfulness
Resist the urge to multitask non-stop. Focus on one task at a time, whether it’s working, reading, or even washing dishes. You’ll find that you complete tasks more efficiently and with greater satisfaction. Make a goal to eat without distractions such as eliminating TV or smartphones.
Slow & Mindful Travel
Plan your trips with a focus on quality experiences rather than quantity. Immerse yourself in the local culture and truly experience a place, rather than rushing through a checklist of tourist spots. Visit local markets and coffee shops. Stay in locally-owned accommodations over big hotel chains.
(Stop and smell the roses. Flowers from our travels)
Adopting a slower approach
Reclaiming time & prioritizing wellbeing
I didn't Want to Be a Lifer in The System
Every year Will and I take an extended trip to warmer climates to escape the Montreal winter. You might call us snowbirds, but often these are retirees. We don’t work much, but we are far from being retired. People wonder how we’ve been able to sustain this way of life for more than a decade. Some think we are secretly rich, but we don’t have what most would consider wealth. No car, no home, no inheritance. With our modest bank accounts, we possess wealth of a different kind. We have the luxury of living on our own time. For us, that’s freedom money can’t buy. My secret is to do away with life’s excess so I can focus on what’s really important.
My transition to what we call slow living began in 2012 when I resigned from my short-lived career as a high school teacher in Brooklyn, NY. Some were dismayed that I would throw away a tenured position with top notch health benefits and a comfortable retirement. Others wished they could be as brave. For me, it was simple. I didn’t want to swap my life for job security and a pension. I didn’t want to be a lifer in the system.
Despite my resignation, those years in NYC were the highlight of my ten year career. Most memorable were my students, especially the troublesome ones that sent me home crying, making me want to quit in the early years. They prepared me for heading into the unknown. Like the song New York, New York: If I can make it here, I’ll make it anywhere. I had no other job lined up, just some savings, and an exhilarating sense of creativity and adventure.
My exit from the system also terminated my work visa, which meant no further right to legal employment in the US. I found work off the books doing various things that peaked my interest – when not traveling extensively. Eventually, I married a former colleague I was dating at the school. He struggled to pay child support, back taxes and even his share of the rent. We had a two bedroom, rent controlled apartment in a trendy Brooklyn neighborhood that was on the tourist scene. I listed our spare room on Airbnb and it supplemented our income enough to travel together on a few occasions.
The life I describe isn’t for everyone. The absence of a steady income is certainly cause for anxiety. But I am savvy with my limited finances, and have very little wants and needs. I favor a lifestyle that focuses less on working and more on living, less need for money and more time for simple pleasures. Unfortunately, my, then, husband was still bound by the conventional 9 – 5 grind. In time our lives began to diverge. After our divorce I continued to curate my slow rhythm of life. In 2017 while traveling in Spain, I met Will…and here we are today living LA VIE EN SLOW.
Death Of A Salesman
Comme la grande majorité des gens, j’ai consacré beaucoup de temps et d’énergie au travail. Je le voyais comme une extension de moi-même et j’étais fier de ma position et de mon statut notamment à l’époque où j’occupais le poste de commercial pour la société G Star. Pendant six ans, j’ai vécu à cent à l’heure, accumulant les heures supplémentaires, enchaînant les soirées, les repas avec les clients, les meetings à Paris, Anvers, Amsterdam dans les endroits les plus branchés du moment. J’étais l’employé d’une marque connue et demandée et je me suis identifié à cette image.
Mon ego était au top de sa forme et je ne manquais aucune occasion de le flatter. Mes amis et ma compagne de l’époque avaient remarqué le changement dans ma personnalité mais j’ai été berné et endormi par l’Audi de fonction, les voyages en première classe, les beaux hôtels, les restaurants étoilés enfin par les paillettes d’un monde édulcoré.
J’étais jeune, ignorant, arrogant et motivé par le succès et la reconnaissance. La chute a été difficile quand je me suis aperçu que je ne n’étais qu’un pion sur l’échiquier, un citron dont on presse le jus puis que l’on jette. Éreinté par cette vie de fou et la pression exercée par mes supérieurs pour vendre encore plus, j’ai décidé de quitter l’entreprise. Seulement, la hiérarchie n’a pas accepté ma demande et malgré toutes les années et le temps investi, mon départ fût très chaotique et traumatisant m’obligeant à faire appel à un avocat pour obtenir gain de cause. Je suis parti sans pots de départ, ni célébration, ni remerciement et bien que impacté par cette fin inattendue, le rêve d’une vie se profilait devant moi. Je partais pour un voyage d’un an qui commençait en Octobre 2010.
J’avais opté pour un tour des continents en démarrant par l’Asie, puis l’Océanie et finissant en Amérique du Sud. Plus de compte à rendre, de rapports à donner, d’horaires ni emploi du temps à respecter. J’étais libre avec les joies et les craintes que cela engendre. Le premier choc eut lieu au contact de la terre de mes ancêtres paternels. L’Inde grouillante de monde, d’odeurs et de bruits m’a autant déstabilisé que captivé mêlant choc de culture et sensation familière. Au fil des rencontres, de la beauté des paysages et de la magie du voyage, mon rythme de vie s’est naturellement ralenti pour observer, apprécier et contempler ce qui s’offrait à moi. Cette année d’aventure à été l’élément déclencheur et l’esquisse de mon futur. Je me rappelle du regard étonné de ma famille et de mes amis à mon retour. J’atterrissais avec une barbe qui masquait mon visage et des longs cheveux qui couvraient mes épaules mais la vraie transformation ne pouvait se voir. Elle était intérieure et je me rappelle m’être posé cette question. Qui suis-je devenu?
De retour à Marseille sans travail, j’ai jonglé avec les petits jobs tantôt de la figuration, puis de la mise en rayon ou comme guide à vélo. Je gagnais peu mais je vivais à mon rythme me laissant du temps pour lire et m’immerger dans le yoga et la méditation. Ces années à ralentir m’ont aidées à faire le deuil de seize années de vie en couple. La rupture a été douloureuse et pour éviter d’être envahi par la solitude qui a suivi, j’ai décidé d’en faire une allié, une amie. Elle m’a suivi lors de mon déménagement en Andalousie où j’ai fait la rencontre de Thuy avec qui nous partageons depuis huit ans un mode de vie plutôt atypique tourné vers l’appréciation du temps en prônant le ralentissement. D’ailleurs, chaque année nous quittons le froid de Montréal pour une destination ensoleillée où nous passons les mois d’hiver. Nous n’avons pas gagné au loto et sommes loin d’êtres retraités mais notre expérience pourrait vous servir de guide et vous donner l’envie d’adopter ce que nous appelons La Vie En Slow.
Grief Goes Slow
Why slow grieving best honors my soul connection with Antoine.
My worries about Antoine began when I noticed messages to him went unseen. This was unusual. Despite the three hour time difference, we’d been communicating almost daily for years. He lived on the west coast in Palm Springs. I was on the east coast in Montreal, his native city, where we first met. I had a strange feeling days prior to our last text on October 31st, 2023, but made nothing of it, because the exchange that day was pretty typical. My anxiety escalated when messages remained unseen two days later. So I asked his neighbor, and former roommate, to knock on his door. Matthieu said he would go over first thing in the morning of November 3rd.
Cursing the time difference, I waited all morning to hear back from him. When Matthieu got to Antoine’s door, he called my husband, Will. They spoke in their native French. The tone of their voices frightened me. Matthieu was puzzled by the scene before him. An official sticker sealed the front door. On the sticker was written a phrase he did not understand. When I heard Will say from the office of coroner, a blood curdling scream bursted out of me. No, please God….no! My knees buckled. I fell to the floor. Will tried to dissuade me from assuming the worst, but I knew the coroner on the scene could only mean one thing. Cries came out of me uncontrollably sending our neighbor knocking, suspecting something awful had happened to Will.
Some minutes later I received a call from Antoine’s half-brother, Basile. Never had he called before. This call only confirmed what I already suspected. He knew by my crying that I already got the news. Basile…I sobbed into the phone. I’m so sorry, Thuy, he repeated, voice sunken, both of us in shock and disbelief. I crumpled further to the floor, cries of anguish shot out from my chest and stomach. My heart broke. I’m so sorry, Basile, I whimpered.
Details about Antoine’s suicide emerged in the days that followed, sending me further into pain and shock. There were moments the sorrow was so deep, I wanted to join him. Short of taking my own life, I wish for time to pass quickly so we could reunite. Tears accompanied me day and night, into my sleep and waking hours. Visions of Antoine came into my dreams; a misty figure reaching out for me, lost, asking for me to guide him, to go with him into the dense fog. My heart sank. I wanted to go, but the only thing I could say was, Where you are going, I cannot. You must go alone. Somehow he already knew this. He turned, head low and walk into the fog. I woke to the sound of my own sobs.
Suicide grief is complex, different from other losses. Nothing could have prepared me for this earth shattering news. The stigma of suicide leaves me feeling alone and abandoned. Close friends & family retreated from asking about me, and from mentioning Antoine at all. I wanted to tell them, When you say his name, you are not reminding me that he died. You are letting me know that you remember he lived. Though I yearn for understanding, I do not wish this pain on anyone. Instead I found support from help lines, grief counseling, and suicide bereavement groups, in-person and on Facebook. As twisted as it sounds, knowing there are others out there grieving the same loss gives me comfort. We can openly share our experiences without being shunned or judged.
To heal it, you have to feel it. I have dedicated the better part of the past 18+ months to giving myself time and grace. Thanks to our slow way of life I can take long pauses from work to tend to my wellbeing, to move through this grieving process without haste. Adopting the slow pace of life many years ago has enabled me to cultivate a spiritual practice that I now call upon to guide and support me through this journey of healing. When sadness and despair overwhelm me, a certain gratitude often follows. I am grateful for the time and space I have to feel my feelings, to grieve at a pace that rightfully honors my soul connection with Antoine.
The only way to keep him near is to reminisce. Memories of him are all that’s left. I am thankful for the richness of time to savor these precious moments unhurriedly. I can sit and reflect on our 22 year friendship without yielding to the pressure to move on. Antoine often said travels with us were some of the best times in his life. As I contemplated this, I felt a stirring inside to commemorate our friendship, to make something of this loss. It’s fitting this is where my healing journey takes me. La Vie En Slow was an idea that began with Antoine’s collaboration. It is now my slow goodbye to my dearest friend, my soul’s companion. How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard. I know he feels the same wherever he is now.
Je vois la vie en slow, je vis le deuil en slow
De condoléances en convalescence, le temps guérit de ton absence
Quand la mort sonne à notre porte, nous ne sommes pas préparés à affronter une telle nouvelle. L’onde de choc qui en résulte, nous assomme, nous étouffe, nous laisse sans énergie, sans but, sans vie. Nous sommes passés en quelques secondes de l’état d’êtres vivants à celui d’endeuillés, notre vie a basculé du côté obscur, dans ce noir, dans cette abîme infamilière, inconnue, irréelle. Nous voilà projetés dans le cercle fermé des victimes, des survivants, des épargnés qui doivent désormais entamer ce long chemin chaotique qu’on appelle deuil.
Mon ami Antoine s’est suicidé dans son appartement de Palm Springs le soir d’Halloween en 2023. Il venait d’avoir 50 ans. Le jour de sa mort, il échangeait par sms avec ma femme Thuy au sujet d’un hamac, acheté lors d’un voyage en Equateur, qu’ils utilisaient à tour de rôle et qu’Antoine avait expédier de Californie malgré lui avoir répété ne pas en avoir l’utilité. La conversation se clôtura par des bisous. Le lendemain matin n’ayant pas de réponse à nos messages et constatant qu’il n’était plus connecté comme à son habitude sur les réseaux sociaux, l’angoisse monta. Le 2 Novembre, nous contactons Mathieu un ami et voisin pour lui partager nos inquiétudes et lui demander d’aller sonner à la porte d’Antoine. Il ira le lendemain matin à la première heure. Je suis en ligne quand je reçois le sms de Mathieu “ réponds stp, c’est urgent”.
J’ai encore en mémoire cet instant où tout a basculé. Je me souviens de cette sensation étrange, de ce nœud dans l’estomac, cette boule dans la gorge. Je me rappelle du cri transpercant de douleur de ma femme quand elle a entendu le mot “ coroner”. Un cri du cœur, une déchirure de l’âme qui reste encore très vive dans ma mémoire et dans mon corps. Les pleurs, les cris, les appels se sont superposés dans cet espace temps où plus rien n’avait de sens, ni ne comptait ou n’était important. Nous venions d’apprendre le suicide de notre ami. Rêve, cauchemar, hallucination, nous étions abattu, perdu, vidé, mort à l’intérieur. Comment vivre avec cette absence, cette douleur, ce traumatisme?
Depuis que j’ai rencontré Thuy, il y 8 ans, nous vivons à notre rythme. Nous prenons notre café ensemble le matin, nous cuisinons, nous passons nos hivers au soleil, bref nous appelons cela, la vie en slow. Nous avons ralenti pour apprécier ces simplicités du quotidien qui nous échappe et nous voilà touché de plein fouet par le suicide de notre ami Antonio. Il nous accompagnait dans nos voyages et expérimentait cette vie en slow dont il tentait de s’inspirer. Sa mort soudaine et brutale nous place face au deuil. Cet état de solitude dans lequel nous apprécions le temps que nous avons pour cicatriser de cette blessure, de ce traumatisme, de cette souffrance. Dans les premiers temps, j’ai ressenti un besoin viscéral d’aller marcher malgré le froid, le vent, la neige. Tous les matins, mes pas me menaient sur le sentier qui longe la rivière et tout en conscience, j’écoutais ma douleur. J’ai accepté les larmes qui coulaient en évoquant les souvenirs. J’ai aussi eu le besoin de lire et d’écrire. J’ai passé des heures à la bibliothèque du quartier immergé dans des sujets comme le suicide, la mort, les expériences de mort imminente, l’après-vie, le deuil. C’était une façon de me rapprocher de mon ami et de comprendre son geste. Je me suis assis dans le deuil, je me suis infusé en lui, je lui ai créé de l’espace.
Une année et demi s’est écoulé et nous sommes encore profondément touché par cette tragédie, cependant nous réalisons la chance que nous avons d’avoir ce temps pour prendre soin l’un de l’autre, pour communiquer sur la mort et le suicide et partagé nos découvertes, pour vivre le deuil sans honte, à notre rythme, celui qu’il faudra pour cicatriser. En ce moment nous sommes en Turquie, au bord de la Méditerranée, et chaque jour qui passe nous éprouvons de la gratitude et de l’amour pour ce choix de vie qui nous permet de vivre notre deuil bercé par les vagues, les parfums d’orangers et de citronniers, dans un écrin de montagnes teintés de rouge et couverts de verts. Nous réalisons que la vie en slow est un miroir du deuil en slow et que l’un et l’autre font l’apologie du ralentissement comme médicament.
Why Grief Recovery Starts With Slowing Down
Slow grief allows time for healing to unfold, making space for acceptance and understanding rather than forcing an end to the pain before you’re ready.
1. Feel all your feelings
There are no right or wrong feelings. It’s essential to allow ourselves to feel whatever comes up for us. While our emotions may be intense and overwhelming at times, suppressing, minimizing, ignoring, or judging our feelings will only increase our suffering. Give yourself permission to cry or not cry, to scream or sit in silence, or whatever expression feels right to you. All of these responses are natural, valid, and an important part of the grieving process.
2. Meet yourself with compassion
Imagine treating ourselves with the same kindness and understanding we would extend to a close friend. We are human and it’s ok to struggle and not always function at your best. Be gentle with yourself and give yourself permission to slow down, practice self-care, and rest. Practicing self-compassion will help you navigate your grief with more ease and resilience.
3. Accept that grief is a not a linear process
Grief doesn’t follow a predictable path. We may find ourselves moving through different “stages,” such as denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance (and many other possibilities) in no particular order.At times we might cycle back to a stage we thought we had moved past. The non-linear nature of grief means there is no right or wrong way to “do” grief, and knowing this can help us bring more patience, acceptance, and trust to our own unique grieving process.
4. Let go of any preconceived notion of how long all this will take
Give yourself permission to grieve at your own pace. If we approach our grief with self-compassion and care, we can rest assured that our experience WILL change over time. All of this takes time and requires slowing down in order to be fully present with our grief.