Please Slow Down (pt. 1): Possibilities of Rest

Take a sacred pause for 1-3 minutes. Breathe, be, and begin again.

Hello, dear ones,

It means so much to me to have this tiny slice of your inbox, your attention, and your time. Life is so full, and being a part of yours is something I do not take for granted.

If you’re like me, you might be scrolling through this email, skimming over the words, looking for the

bold headings,

major themes, and

• action items.

When I do this, I fool myself into a mindset of efficiency. I tell myself that if I get to the main point faster, I save time and can do more (and there’s always more to do). I have been convinced this should relieve some of my existential anxiety (it doesn’t).

However, by attempting to cram more activity into less time, I end up experiencing far less of life much more of the time.

This month, this season, and this life, I urge you to please slow down.

S l o w . W a y . D o w n .

Slow down with a deep breath (really, take a big inhale, and s l o w l y exhale).

Slow down by looking out the window.

Or even better, pause reading this newsletter and slow down for a few minutes outside under the open sky.

Notice what your senses notice.

Notice what elements you can experience.

Slowing down doesn’t necessarily mean doing everything in slow motion. To slow down, we can interrupt the mundane with a sacred pause.

Stop. Take a deep breath. Open to and observe what is. Proceed.

Slowing down gives us access to the resources we need to relate to our lives with care.

When we slow down, we can feel more, we can perceive more, we can be more.

More is not necessarily a measurable quantity in this case.

More is spacious.

More is open.

More is possibility.

One afternoon this spring, I was sitting in the car, waiting to pick up my partner so we could drive home. As I sat in the parking lot, I picked up my phone in a reflexive attempt to maximize my illusions of productivity and refine my habit of distraction. Maybe I could text someone, check my email, rearrange my to-do list, or play a game!

As I held my phone in my hands, the familiar weight and smoothness, the bright screen staring back at me, I noticed some movement in my periphery that pulled my attention beyond the confines of the car, and it occurred to me that I had a choice.

I could narrow my life by focusing all my attention on a 3x6-inch screen, or I could lift my chin, look up, and look around.

I chose to look around.

It had been a week of scattered rain showers, and that evening, the sun broke through the clouds, illuminating the freshly nourished grass, which was glowing and vibrant with liquid light.

I noticed squirrels scampering up a tree. I heard the cheerful chirp of robins. I witnessed shapeshifting shadows on the ground as the clouds moved across the golden blue sky.

I sat there for less than five minutes, taking in the ordinary majesty of this scene.

In that brief time, I tapped into a source of expansiveness, and my tender heart had a soft place to rest— in the embrace of simply being.

And months later, I continue to replay that moment, that subtle shift of attention from one thing to another, and I feel resourced by the possibility that opens up when I practice presence.

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Rushing through it all gets us nowhere fast. And there is nowhere else to be except now and here, anyway.

We might think that if we go through things quickly, we won’t have to feel the discomfort of loss, anger, fear, sadness, anxiety, or stress. But speeding our way through life only temporarily dulls the sharpness and leads us to barely skim the surface of life's joy and beauty.

What are we rushing away from? Do we ever actually get away?

What are we rushing towards? Do we ever actually get there?

Sometimes, we miss so much by rushing around, trying not to miss anything.

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Slowing Down in Practice

In the spirit of slowing down, I am going to slow down the pace of this newsletter and split it into smaller bites so you can slow down, receive, and integrate the invitations of stillness, silence, and spaciousness.

You’ll hear from me for the next three Tuesdays*.

On Tuesday, June 4th, I’ll share a few photographs inspired by stillness and explore how we can trust our own rhythms of activity and rest.

On Tuesday, June 11th, I’ll share a poem begging you to slow down and enjoy silence.

On Tuesday, June 18th, I’ll share practices for welcoming spaciousness.

*This is an experiment. Let me know how you like the shorter(ish), more frequent newsletters.

Thank you for your patience as I took my own advice and slowed my writing way down this spring. I hope this comes at the perfect time and you receive what you need and feel my love.

Thank you for being here, being you, as you are.

With love & gratefulness always,

🧡 Marissa