I was first drawn to the idea of slow living because, quite frankly, I just needed to slow down. At the time, I didn’t even realize it was a thing. I hadn’t read a book about it, I hadn’t followed any influencers preaching its gospel—I’d only heard whispers. A few murmurs online about “the slow movement,” maybe a hashtag here and there. But the pull was visceral. Life felt fast, frantic, and full in all the wrong ways. I didn’t want another hack, or to-do list, or system to optimize my time. I wanted space. I wanted silence. I wanted to breathe.
So, like any good millennial in an existential crisis, I started Googling, What is slow living? I found a smattering of blog posts about decluttering your home, simplifying your schedule, choosing intention over impulse. “Less is more,” they said. “Minimalism over consumerism.” Protect the planet. Protect your peace. Start with your closet or your kitchen. Donate your stuff. Make more time for what matters. All good things. All… also kind of exhausting.
Around that time, I found myself deeply inspired by my friend Ky Keenan. From my vantage point, she was the embodiment of the slow living lifestyle. Running her raw chocolate company and café, raising her daughter in a homeschooling co-op on Martha’s Vineyard, surrounded by ocean and wild fields. Hosting slow food retreats in Italy, the birthplace of the movement, and artisan workshops in Oaxaca that connected female entrepreneurs with local artisans and makers with purpose. Ky wasn’t just living beautifully, she was living right. Slow living, as she lived it, wasn’t just a personal wellness trend—it was an ethical, environmental, and deeply soulful lifestyle.
To me it looked like the “do-gooder’s” version of the dream. Purposeful weekdays filled with meaningful work, dreamy weekends frolicking in vineyards or browsing open-air markets. But as much as I admired it, I also felt completely overwhelmed. What would it take to become that woman? The one who composts, slow cooks, volunteers, and has a wardrobe made entirely of linen?
What I didn’t know then was that slow living doesn’t begin with an overhaul. It begins with something ancient. Something far more subtle and sacred. The art of nondoing. But we’ll get there in a moment. First, what is slow living, in the modern sense?
What is Slow Living: The History of the Slow Movement
At its core, slow living is about presence, depth, and the quality of connection. It’s about living with intention in a culture that’s largely obsessed with speed, production, and constant stimulation. It’s about doing less, at a higher quality. Which, to me, really means being more. But before it became a dreamy, whimsical aesthetic on Instagram, it was actually a radical protest.
The slow movement began in Italy in the late 1980s, as a passionate response to the opening of a McDonald’s near the Piazza di Spagna, aka the Spanish Steps, in the heart of Rome. Thousands of people showed up in protest, outraged by the arrival of fast food in a place so deeply rooted in tradition, regional flavor, and the art of the long lunch. Unfortunately, the McDonald’s was built. But its presence, loud and plastic against centuries of culinary reverence, ignited something far deeper. It sparked a cultural revolution. A few years after the protests, Italian journalist Carlo Petrini, founded the slow food movement as a formal and philosophical counter to fast food and fast life. What began as a protest became a global philosophy and a call to preserve regional cuisines, support local farmers and artisans, and encourage people to savor their meals rather than rush through them.
It’s kind of poetic, huh? One McDonald’s became the unlikely catalyst for a global movement rooted in slowness, sensuality, and soul. A love letter to quality, to time, and to the ancient rituals of nourishment and gathering. From slow food, the philosophy rippled outward into slow travel, slow fashion, slow money, slow schooling, and eventually the broader concept of slow living which calls for a full-bodied reevaluation of the pace of our lives.
When I first stumbled upon all of this, I remember thinking: Wait… so it’s not just about buying less stuff and meditating in the mornings? There was a whole philosophy behind it. A commitment to conscious living that rejected the idea that faster is always better. It was about honoring quality over quantity, human connection over convenience, local over global, presence over performance.
But here’s the part I misunderstood: slow living is not about being perfect, and it’s definitely not about being lazy. It’s not about curating the most ethical lifestyle or checking off every box on the minimalist bingo card. And it’s also not about quitting your job to grow lavender and weave your own linen from flax you harvested yourself. The misconception is that slow living has to look a certain way—rustic, aesthetic, organic, beige. And that if you’re still living in a city, still working 9–5, still using Amazon Prime… then you must not be doing it right.
But slow living isn’t about where you live or how you shop. It’s not just about how you live. It’s about how you be. It begins as a lens, a way of seeing the world. And from that softened gaze, everything shifts: the way you live, the way you work, the way you love, the way you lead.
Related: Slow Living In the City: How to Find Peace in the Bustle of Everyday Life
Slow Living as a Path to Freedom
When you think of slow living, you might not immediately equate it with freedom. More often, the true heart of slow living gets minimized and overshadowed by the practicalities or aesthetics of it all. We reduce it to a checklist: reorganize the kitchen, donate old clothes, buy organic, shop local. All noble goals. But that’s not the point. At its essence, slow living is about having the power to govern the rhythm of your own life.
In his book In Praise of Slowness, Carl Honoré writes, “Be fast when it makes sense to be fast, and slow when slowness is called for. Seek to live at tempo giusto—the right speed.” Carlo Petrini echoes the sentiment: “You decide how fast you go in any given context. If today I want to go fast, I go fast; if tomorrow I want to go slow, I go slow. What we are fighting for is the right to determine our own tempos.” That’s the real revolution: reclaiming your right to choose your own pace. And it begs a deeper question—what is freedom, really?
Freedom is choice. But more than that, freedom is consciousness. It’s the ability to respond rather than react. To pause long enough to feel what’s true. To recognize that we are not bound to the pace or expectations of anyone else. To live in harmony with our own internal rhythm. Freedom comes with responsibility, though. And many of us, without even realizing it, find comfort in the cages we’ve built for ourselves. The habits. The hustle. The expectations we inherit and internalize. We accept the demands placed upon us as though we have no say in the matter. When we slow down, we start to see clearly. We do have a choice. We can choose how we relate to any situation. We can choose how fast or slow we move through our lives. And in that space of conscious choice, our inner and outer worlds begin to shift.
This is where my own understanding of slow living began to deepen. At first, I embraced it as a path to more beauty, softness, and peace. But somewhere along the way, I began to experience something even deeper—a profound sense of freedom. And not just the external kind, though these days, yes, I set my own schedule, choose my clients, decide what I eat, how I move, and who I spend my time with. But the deeper freedom I found wasn’t logistical. It was internal.
Here’s what I believe: Nature is perfect. Its cycles are ancient and intelligent. And when we learn to let go—of our obsession with control, our addiction to urgency, our compulsion to push and force—we begin to fall into step with a rhythm that was always there, patiently waiting. It’s a rhythm that doesn’t demand, but invites. That doesn’t dominate, but supports. That doesn’t hustle, but flows.
The irony is this—the more I surrender to that rhythm, the freer I feel. The more I stop trying to control life, the more life opens up for me. Because in aligning myself with nature, I’m not losing control, I am aligning with a deeper intelligence. One that already knows when to bloom and when to rest. When to stretch toward the sun and when to go underground.
As I stopped swimming upstream… As I began aligning my thoughts with that deep well of stillness beneath all thought… As I listened more to the pace of my body, the quiet of the morning, the breath between thoughts… I discovered a freedom so rich, it no longer depended on my external circumstances. I found a freedom far greater than the illusion of being in control. Because it turns out, the truest form of freedom isn’t about calling all the shots—it’s about remembering that you’re already part of something much wiser. It’s about finding harmony with a deeper rhythm. Letting nature lead. Letting life breathe through you. And realizing you were never separate from it to begin with.
Slowing down, then, isn’t just about saying no to speed. It’s about saying yes to soul. Yes to rhythm. Yes to the most sovereign, liberated version of yourself.
What is the Art of Non-Doing? A Starting Point for Your Slow Living Journey
This is wholly my opinion, but slow living, at its heart, is more than a lifestyle. It’s a spiritual path. One rooted in the ancient wisdom of Taoism, which teaches us to move in harmony with the natural flow of Life rather than forcing, pushing, or striving. In Taoist philosophy, this is called wu wei, or the art of non-doing. It’s not about inactivity or passivity. It’s about effortless action and moving in alignment with what wants to happen rather than constantly swimming against the current. It’s about presence, spontaneity, and learning to trust the unseen forces that guide us when we slow down long enough to listen. Some call it intuition. Others might call it faith, flow, or grace.
Last week, I was talking to my mum about The Slow Year and the writing I’ve been doing around slow living, and she said something that struck me. “Yea, it’s how we raised you kids, although I never thought of it as slow,” she said. “But, the Bible does say, ‘Be still and know that I am God.’” And that’s exactly it. This is slow living as a spiritual path. A way of surrendering to something wiser, quieter, and infinitely more peaceful. A way of living that begins not with doing, but with being.
So, how do you bring this soulful approach into your everyday life? Let’s explore some simple, intuitive ways to start slow living.
Practical Tips for Embracing the Freedom of Slow Living
1. Sync with Nature
Slow living begins in the natural world. It’s about not only spending time in nature, but really seeing it and letting it speak to you. When I walk through the trees or pause to notice the petals on a flower, I’m reminded that life unfolds without force. Seasons shift with ease. Trees grow slowly, deliberately. Nothing in nature hurries, and yet everything gets done. Over time, this noticing retrains the mind to recognize beauty, depth, and rhythm everywhere.
These days, even when I walk into a grocery store, I’m pulled to the fruit and veggie section, and am enchanted by mountains of berries and dragon fruit, the vibrancy of color synonymous with nourishment. Cooking has become a ritual for me, an act of devotion that mirrors nature’s pace. Water takes time to boil. Grains take time to soak. And just like that, I see how everything good takes time. Even my creativity flows better when I stop trying to force it and instead move with my body’s rhythm, rest when I’m tired, and act when I’m inspired. There’s a harmony and elegance in letting life unfold.
2. Trust the Wisdom of the Body
For much of my life, I ignored the wisdom of my own body. Like many women, I wasn’t taught how to live in sync with my cycles. It wasn’t until I experienced long, disruptive menstrual periods over nearly a decade that I finally began asking questions. I picked up a book about the female cycle, and for the first time, I learned how innately cyclical the female body is and how we’re designed for different strengths at different phases: productivity, creativity, socializing, rest. But I was living too fast to do anything with that knowledge.
Only recently, after years of slowing down, have I truly begun living in harmony with my body. I’ve learned to pay attention to energy levels, focus, the quality of my bleed, and the subtle shifts that occur throughout the month. I now optimize my days to honor my biology, not override it. There’s so much intuitive wisdom living inside the body, waiting to be listened to. And when we live slowly enough to honor that, everything shifts. We stop trying to be the same every day and instead embrace the deep, cyclical power of being a woman.
3. Free the Mind
When we slow down, we begin to notice how much noise lives in the mind. Thoughts, fears, worries, expectations are constantly running in the background. But slowing down gives us access to what Eckhart Tolle calls “the watcher” which is the presence that observes the mind without becoming entangled in it. This is the beginning of what I like to call slow thinking: not overthinking, but intentional, spacious thought. It’s realizing the mind, for all its brilliance, was built for survival. It’s constantly scanning for danger, preparing for the worst. But when we live at the mercy of that fast, frantic mind, we live in bondage to fear and doubt.
The freedom of slow living is first and foremost a freedom of thought. When we allow the mind to slow down, through breath, stillness, nature, or quiet observation, we begin to break its spell. We realize we are not our thoughts. We become gentler with ourselves. More present. More free.
Related: Slow Thinking: How to Calm Your Mind, Relax Your Spirit and Think More Clearly
4. Live in Total Surrender
This morning I was reading Trust by Osho, and one line stopped me: “Maturity is the acceptance of reality.” That’s it. So often our need for speed is actually resistance—an attempt to outrun the present moment. We want things to be different. We want to be further along, somewhere else, someone else. But Osho is saying true maturity, and true peace, begins when we stop fighting what is. This doesn’t mean we don’t change our circumstances, but that we stop pushing against them in frantic desperation. We breathe into the now. We honor where we are. And in that surrender, we become free.
For me, surrender has become a daily practice. Not one of giving up, but of letting go. Letting life meet me where I am, instead of where I think I should be. And ironically, when I surrender, life flows more easily. I find myself exactly where I need to be. It’s a paradox of slow living, that by accepting the present, we stop resisting the future.
5. Enjoy the Ripple Effects of Your Being.
The slower I become inside, the more my external life begins to mirror that peace. A sustainably slow life isn’t just about external habits, it’s the byproduct of an internal state. A relaxed nervous system. A calm, open heart. A quiet, spacious mind. When we begin being differently, we start doing differently.
I buy whole foods now. I eat slower, with more gratitude. I walk my city like it’s sacred. I pause before I speak. I care more—about the earth, about other people, about my own well-being. I make more environmentally-aligned choices, not because I’m trying to be perfect, but because I feel more connected. I’ve learned that the slowness I embody ripples outward. I navigate my friendships and relationships more intentionally. I dance because it feels good, not because I think I have to. I show up in my life with love, because I’m no longer in a rush to prove something. It all begins inside. And then it radiates outward in small, beautiful, lasting ways.
Suggested: How to Romanticize Your Life: 7 Daily Rituals to Make Life Magical
Slow Living as a Spiritual Path
At its essence, slow living is not just a lifestyle, it’s a return. A remembering. A way of coming home to something ancient and wise that has always lived within and around us. When we slow down, we don’t just find rest, we find rhythm. We begin to notice the way life pulses in seasons and cycles, in the inhale and exhale, in the quiet between thoughts. We begin to feel the presence of something deeper guiding us, not through force, but through gentle invitation.
This path asks us to trust. To surrender our timelines and expectations. To release the illusion of control and instead root ourselves in something more powerful—the natural unfolding of life itself. It’s a spiritual journey, not because it’s lofty or abstract, but because it invites us into deeper connection with our bodies, the Earth, the divine, and each other.
Slow living doesn’t promise ease in every moment. But it does promise alignment. And in that alignment, we find the kind of freedom that doesn’t require escape or achievement, just presence.
If you’re feeling called toward a slower, softer, more soulful life… consider this your invitation to begin. What would your life look like if you stopped forcing and started flowing? If you trusted your body, honored your rhythms, and let nature lead? I’d love to hear what comes up for you! Feel free to share your reflections 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.
