I popped up out of bed this morning, incredibly excited to write this post about how to calm your mind and think clearly. I brushed my teeth, put on my clothes, and started heading out the door. Thoughts were racing, ideas swirling, stories formulating. I was feeling excited and overwhelmed all at once to write about the benefits of slow thinking.
I decided to skip my usual slow morning routine and head to the coffee shop to work—the one that opens at 7am, before the light of day has barely dawned. I was halfway out the door, eyes unfocused and spirit churning, when I paused and took a deep breath. “Slow down, Candis. Moving this fast never feels good or ends well.”
This feeling—what I’ve often mistaken for inspiration or momentum—has brought me to my knees more times than I care to admit. That nagging sense of being behind (behind what or who, I can never quite say), trying to catch up to myself like I’m in some imaginary race against time. I’ve called it “flow” or “riding the wave of action” before—until the inevitable crash arrives, leaving me ungrounded and creatively drained. My work becomes rushed, uninspired, often a string of regurgitated ideas lacking any real emotional resonance.
I thought back to the week before. Several of my executive coaching clients came to me asking the same thing: How do I stop overthinking? How do I think clearly again? They were caught in cycles of mental fatigue—over-analyzing, second-guessing, worried about doing things “wrong.” They felt stuck, indecisive, reactive, full of self-doubt, and completely unsure how to slow down or step off the hamster wheel of busyness.
I turned around and went back inside. I took off my jeans, put on sweatpants, and decided to restart the day. This time, I walked to the balcony, opened the door, and took a deep breath of fresh air. I stared into the morning sky, the sun just beginning to peek through the palm fronds. I poured myself a tall glass of water and savored the feeling of rehydration after a long night’s sleep. I lit a candle, sat on my meditation cushion, and faced the light. For a few quiet moments, I did nothing—just allowed the thoughts to fade, the tension to melt, the silence to take over.
Twenty minutes later, my mind felt calm. My spirit relaxed. And from that place, a new clarity arose; it was excitement without the overwhelm, momentum without the tension. It was the joy of thinking slowly.
What is Slow Thinking?
Slow thinking is the art of pausing long enough to feel the truth. It’s deliberate. Intentional. It’s the kind of thinking that doesn’t rush to conclusions but sits with things—breathes with them. It asks deeper questions and listens for quieter answers. It’s not about being analytical, but about being present. It’s the soft, grounded knowing that rises when we stop letting urgency run the show. It’s the mind finally moving at the pace of the heart.
In everyday life, slow thinking looks like stepping back before reacting. It’s choosing to reflect instead of rushing to fix. It’s the part of us that pauses before sending the text, takes a deep breath before making the decision, and notices the difference between fear and intuition. It’s not about being passive—it’s about being wise. Slow thinking helps us respond with clarity instead of habit. It invites us to move through life with more intention, more presence, and a whole lot more grace.
This isn’t to say that fast thinking isn’t great too, at times. In his book Thinking, Fast and Slow, Daniel Kahneman explains that fast thinking is automatic and effortless. It’s instinctual and emotional, which can serve us well when we need to make quick decisions, trust our gut, or respond in the moment. Leaning into our instincts can actually be a powerful way to stop overthinking. Just last week, I challenged a coaching client to practice faster, instinctual thinking as a way to interrupt the exhausting patterns of mental looping she was stuck in.
But for so many of us, fast thinking—constantly reacting to our environment, to other people, and to our own fleeting emotions—becomes a recipe for stress. It keeps us stuck in the same cycles, year after year.
My friend Sofia said recently, “People are big victims of their ever-fleeting moods,” and I had to laugh. As a woman who feels deeply and is a big advocate for feeling our feelings, I also know that thinking slowly gives those feelings space to breathe. It allows us to respond with more mindfulness, more clarity, and ultimately, with a kind of emotional intelligence that isn’t ruled by the chaos of the moment—but guided by what truly matters.
Why Slow Thinking Feels So Hard (Even When You Crave It)
In my experience—both personally and in my work with clients—the general fear of slowing down is the biggest barrier to slow thinking, period. There’s a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts that come up the moment we try to pause:
What if I lose momentum?
What if I forget what I was thinking?
What if my work isn’t as good if I don’t do it now?
What if someone else has the same idea and beats me to it?
What if I fall behind?
And for my clients—many of whom are senior leaders in their organizations—there’s an even deeper fear: If I don’t move fast, if I’m not constantly producing, will I still be seen as valuable? Will people still think I’m worthy of this role?
They’re worried that if they slow down, they’ll lose credibility, influence, or relevance. That if they’re not achieving at a rapid pace, someone else will outshine them. We fear that by slowing down, we’ll lose—momentum, status, respect, even our edge. But that belief is exactly what keeps us stuck. We’ve been conditioned to think that fast means productive. But fast often just means… fast. It’s not always better. It’s not always wise. And it’s definitely not always sustainable.
The truth is, the real magic—the game-changing insight, the aligned decision, the emotionally intelligent response—often comes when we give ourselves permission to move slower, not faster. Smarter, not harder. Because when we slow down, we don’t lose—we remember. We remember what matters. We hear ourselves more clearly. We move from pressure to presence. From proving… to trusting. And in that quiet—where the noise settles and the heart speaks—we find our way back to something true. We find our rhythm. We come home to ourselves.
How to Practice Slow Thinking: Practical Tips for Calming Your Mind and Slowing Down Your Thoughts
1. Stop Thinking Altogether, aka Practice Doing Nothing.
We have to strip everything down, back to the beginning, and start again. A few years ago, I decided I wanted to cut back on sugar because my face felt like it was constantly covered in pimples. I started to suspect my beloved habit of one-too-many glasses of orange juice a day was part of the issue.
Like the good student I am, I dove into research on the best ways to reduce sugar intake in a way that would be sustainable over the long term. I picked up the book I Quit Sugar by Sarah Wilson, expecting to find a series of small, manageable steps. But to my surprise, she recommended going completely cold turkey at first. No processed sugar. No fruit. No fructose syrup. No sugar alcohols. Nothing remotely sweet that might remind your body that sugar exists.
I decided to give it a try. And interestingly, when I started reintroducing fruits and natural sweeteners six weeks later, everything tasted so much sweeter than it did before! I became hyper-aware of sugar’s presence and could make more mindful choices about what I consumed.
The same is true of our thoughts. In the early days of my slow living journey, my friend Rob—a positive psychology expert, happiness coach, and sought-after speaker—would often tell me to “stop thinking.” At the time, I thought he was asking me to do something impossible. My mind couldn’t comprehend the idea of non-thinking. After all, thinking is its job, right?
But I also noticed how relentless my thoughts were. My mind would not let me rest, not even at night.
So, I devoted myself to the practice of non-thinking—aka meditation. Not once in a while. Every day. I forced myself to sit still and do nothing, practicing returning again and again to the breath. I still do it today. And slowly, something shifted. By cutting back on thinking altogether, my thoughts slowed naturally over time. So when I returned from the stillness of meditation into the bustle of life, I began to think more slowly, more intentionally. My mind was no longer racing ahead. I was choosing my thoughts.
These days when an avalanche of thoughts tries to sweep me away, I come back to the breath and clear my mind, even for just a moment. This moment is enough to reorient me. To bring me back to my center. To allow me to choose again—and wow, there’s so much freedom in that!
2. Declutter your environment.
I once heard Eckhart Tolle give a beautiful piece of advice in an interview. He said something like: “If you want to feel the spaciousness within, look up into the sky. Be fully present with it, and notice how the spaciousness of the sky reflects the spaciousness within you.” Or something to that effect. I’m sure he said it more poetically. But the image stayed with me.
I think about this visual often when I look at the environment around me. When my physical or digital space looks cluttered, I feel overwhelmed. And truthfully, I’m not sure which comes first—does the cluttered environment make my mind feel chaotic, or does my chaotic mind manifest as clutter in my space? Whatever the case, I know that a clean, minimal space creates the conditions for internal clarity.
These days, my apartment looks like it belongs in the pages of a minimalist magazine. Crisp white linens. Cream fabrics. Black and gold accents. I keep my “stuff” to a minimum and regularly clear out my cupboards and drawers. Nothing lives on my countertops. I fold my bed the way hotels do. Friends always laugh when they visit, asking, “What time is turn-down service?”
They joke, but the truth is: this is one of the ways I use my external environment to lead me back to the stillness within. It’s how I cultivate slow thinking. A tidy home is a clear mind.
3. Move slowly.
There was a time when my mind moved so fast that I would try to put on my heels while standing up. Not because sitting down would take longer—of course it wouldn’t—but because some strange part of me had decided I was too busy to give myself that small kindness.
I’d twist my ankles, fall over myself, try again. I’d walk the streets like I was in a hurry to get somewhere even on weekends. I was the queen of multi-tasking—writing emails while cooking dinner while talking to my mum on FaceTime, her watching it all from the tripod I’d set up in the corner of the kitchen.
I went to the gym to do high-intensity workouts, talked a mile a minute, raced through my to-do list like my life depended on it. I’m exhausted just thinking about it.
My entire world was a reflection of my internal speedometer—and it was set to breakneck. (And as you already know, it still tries to be, some days.)
One day I decided to make a conscious effort to slow down my physical body. Slower workouts. Slower mornings. More presence in each motion. I walked around my apartment deliberately. I stretched slowly. I let the water run over me in the shower for a little longer. Much like decluttering the environment, moving slowly on the outside re-anchored me and reinforced slow thinking on the inside, helping to calm my mind and relax my spirit.
4. Spend Time in Reflection (And Use Pen and Paper!)
Fast thinking is instinctual. It’s emotional. It’s automatic. Slow thinking, on the other hand, is deliberate and intentional. It’s about accessing the natural wisdom that lives inside you—but often gets drowned out by noise. Reflection is how we reconnect to that quiet, clear place.
For me, reflection is a daily practice. Each morning, I sit out on my balcony or by the kitchen window, take a few deep breaths, and write. I always start with a fresh page. Clean white paper. I write about what I see around me, what I feel, what I’m grateful for. The rain nourishing the trees from the roots up. The sky in all its endlessness. The quiet intelligence of planes crisscrossing overhead. The shapes and flow of my own handwriting.
I write about what I’m grateful for in myself—the qualities I appreciate, the growth I’m experiencing, the person I’m becoming. I reflect on where I want to expand, how I want to master my craft, how I can find deeper harmony in my relationships. Even the physical act of writing is slow. And slow writing leads to slow thinking.
On those pages, I uncover new insight, fresh clarity, and small shifts that change everything. I see where life could become a little more effortless, a little more beautiful, a little more peaceful—if I just choose to engage with it in a wiser way.
The Transformative Power of Slow Thinking
Slow thinking isn’t about being passive. It’s about being intentional. It’s about creating a life that moves at the rhythm of your soul, not the pace of your inbox. And it starts in the quiet, everyday moments: when we stop thinking, clear our space, slow our steps, and reflect on what truly matters. That’s how we make space for our deepest wisdom to rise. That’s how we come back to ourselves.
When we make the choice to embrace slow thinking, we begin to transform our relationship with time and with ourselves. Instead of rushing through tasks or constantly trying to keep up with the demands of our busy lives, we slow down to the present moment. This intentional pace allows us to better understand our own needs, desires, and motivations. It clears the fog of constant busyness and brings clarity to the choices we make.
The benefits of slow thinking extend far beyond just calming your mind. Slow thinking also opens the door to creativity and problem-solving. When we move at a slower, more mindful pace, we give our minds the space to consider different perspectives and solutions. We no longer feel trapped by the urgency of doing more but can focus on what truly matters and take deliberate, thoughtful action.
By cultivating slow thinking, we reconnect with our inner wisdom, which guides us through life’s complexities with ease and poise. The more we engage in these slow living practices, the more we begin to trust ourselves and our ability to navigate life with intention. But remember, intentional living isn’t about perfection—it’s about progress. In time, this slow, thoughtful approach transforms how we live, how we love, and how we lead—helping us to make more mindful decisions and create a life that feels both grounded and expansive.
Now, I’d love to hear from you: What’s one small way you can embrace slow thinking in your own life? Share your (slow) thoughts in the comments below!
Ps. Want to kickstart your journey to a slower, more romantic way of living? Sign up for the free 5 Days of Slow audio course here.
