Slowing down and enjoying life isn’t something I’m naturally good at. I tend to rush from one project to the next, frequently feeling frazzled, mentally taxed, and physically exhausted by the time I retire to bed (almost always later than my intended curfew). The anticipation of getting up and doing it all over again in the next 5-7 hours is often enough to crush my dreams of getting quality, restorative sleep.
Can you relate?
It often baffles me that despite modern-day conveniences and inventions designed to make life easier, many of us are still rushing through life with barely enough time to breathe. Living with chronic stress can cause physical symptoms like anxiety, muscle tension, and headaches. It can also suck the joy right out of life (ask me how I know).
Ironically, one of the greatest lessons I’ve learned about the beauty of living a slowed-down life came during one of the busiest weeks of my own life. The company where I work full-time recently had their annual convention, and it was my first time experiencing it. During this convention, I met many wonderful people, including Amish individuals and families.
I had never met anyone in the Amish community before, and I was both excited and intrigued to learn more about them. Though the traditional clothing and hairstyles seemed strange to me at first, I came to admire and respect the Amish people throughout the week. They were always smiling, warmly greeting everyone around them, and seemed to genuinely enjoy life. I also noticed something very refreshing about their demeanor: they never seemed to be in a rush.
They took life at a peaceful, meandering pace—even when my fellow employees and I were hurrying all around them trying to get things set up and in their places. Despite the way they leisurely traveled through life, it was obvious they were far from lazy. You could see the marks of industrious living in their strong hands and sun-worn faces.
The more time I spent with these delightful people, the more I wanted to soak up their unique tranquility. It was clear they were perfectly content to walk peacefully through life, quietly observing others and taking time to offer a handshake or hug to friends and strangers alike.
As I watched them, I had an epiphany: living a slower-paced life makes it easier to truly see those around you who might need companionship, kind words, or even just a smile. It pains me to think of the many handshakes and hugs I could have given to others if I’d simply taken the time to slow down and notice them.
Though it will take far more than a few days of mingling with the peaceful Amish to break my habit of chronic “busyness,” the experience has planted a seed of desire in my heart. I’m learning that slowing down isn’t a sign of laziness or something to feel guilty about. It’s a discipline—one the Amish families I met have quietly mastered.
I don’t know if I’ll ever fully shed my tendency to rush, but I’m starting to see slowness differently: not as something to apologize for, but as a virtue worth cultivating (one unhurried handshake or hug at a time).
