The Slow Way of Living

I’ve always had a strange relationship with time, and I’ve been teased about it for as long as I can remember. Not in a cruel way, just the kind of teasing that comes from people noticing you do something differently and not quite knowing what to make of it. I can’t say the same for all kinds of teasing I grew up with, but this is about time, or more specifically, the way I refuse to rush through it.

My school never really had a strict rule about being late when I was younger, hard to believe as that may sound. I only realized that later, during a parent-teacher meeting when I casually said I never saw the point in running just to arrive stressed, and my teacher laughed and said there was no rule against walking slowly, only against missing the lesson entirely. After that, I don’t think I ever rushed between places again unless something truly demanded it, which was rare.

A friend from another city once got frustrated with me when we were supposed to meet at a café and I arrived “too calmly,” as she put it, like I had no respect for time at all. I asked her why I would want to spend my life chasing something that was already moving without me, especially when sitting still for a moment gave me the chance to actually notice where I was. She didn’t really argue back after that, but she did start arriving earlier than me, just in case.

In my early twenties, I was always the last one to leave gatherings, not because I was trying to stay, but because I never felt the sudden need to escape them. People would rush out into taxis and trains, phones in hand, already thinking about the next place, while I would still be sitting there finishing my drink, watching how the light changed in the room when everyone stopped talking at once. The difference in how I experience moments when I’m not rushing through them is honestly surprising, especially when I realize how much of life people seem to miss while trying to get to the next part of it.

Now I still have to function in a world that moves quickly, but I don’t really like the speed of it. Until I absolutely have to, I prefer slow mornings, unhurried walks, conversations that don’t feel timed, and meals that are not eaten in between tasks. If you’re wondering where I indulge my need for fast things, it’s usually just my phone battery running out faster than I expect. Everything else, I try to let breathe. I would rather miss a trend than miss the feeling of actually being somewhere while I’m there.

That said, I know I’m in the minority when it comes to this, that most people measure their days in productivity and deadlines, and I genuinely respect that, I just don’t live in the same rhythm. There are entire cultures built around urgency, and I hope everyone who thrives in that space finds success in it, but I’ve never been able to treat life like something I need to beat. I prefer moving with it, even if that means I arrive a little later than expected.

There’s an additional benefit to not rushing through everything, besides the peace of it, and that’s the ability to actually notice details most people miss, like how conversations change when no one is looking at the clock, or how places feel different when you’re not just passing through them. And I think, in a strange way, it also makes it easier to understand other people, because you’re not just meeting them halfway between one thing and the next—you’re actually there when you meet them.