Slowing Down
The times are urgent, let us slow down.
— Báyò Akómoláfé
The times are indeed urgent at many scales amidst these days of great uncertainty. Our instinct often leads us to match the accelerating pace of change and 'development,' but this only stokes the flames of the very techno-industrial machine that tears at our hearts.
What if, instead, we embraced a more responsive way of being—one that doesn’t simply react to urgency but listens deeply to it?
By turning away from the frantic reactivity borne of colonial ideals, we can cultivate the tender art of responsiveness. This shift calls for a slower pace, not out of resistance, but because it demands sensitivity. We need real roots—a depth woven from the intricate entanglements of life itself—allowing us to notice the subtle, interdependent rhythms that rush past when we’re caught in urgency. Real responsiveness requires being awake to the fullness of perception, creativity, and relationship that shape our shared Earthly existence.
Let’s be honest: slowing down loses its magic when it becomes just another tool for productivity—another means to an end. Instead, it invites us into a simpler, more sacred way of engaging with time, free from the metrics of profit, achievement, or worthiness. When we allow this, the magic arises on its own accord.
It calls us to attune to ancient, soulful rhythms that are life-affirming by nature, unbound by the robotic cadence of quarterly deadlines. Slowing down becomes an act of care, a gesture of love, allowing us to deepen into new dimensions of presence—where experience and relationship unfold naturally, free from ideal outcomes, and intertwined with the subtleties often overlooked in the fast-forward rush of modernity.
Slowing down might mean listening more deeply to the textured dance of wild grasses swaying with the breeze, or finding the courage to pause and steep in the tangle of emotions that arise before important decisions. It could be as simple as lingering longer in the gaze of another, letting it soften the sharp edges of our hard-earned armour. Or carving out time for wandering, for wondering at the edges of things or steeping in the co-creative capacities of heartfelt conversation. Maybe it’s telling the Story of your Soul in a new way and receiving someone else’s in return.
When we orient ourselves this way, we attune to the nuances of Now, connecting with the Soul beneath the surface of things and the Web of Life that breathes through us all. Ultimately, it’s a surrender of control—an embrace of the living truth that our value lies not in reactive productivity but in wholehearted responsiveness. From this place, whatever we create and however we respond, we cultivate a more meaningful experience of living and loving.