Slowing Down Feels Better & Goes Further
Drifting. Photo by Quinn Corte, 2024.
I was running late. Very late.
As I sat in standstill traffic, I watched my precious massage minutes melt away. Slightly sweaty and extremely apologetic, I greeted my massage therapist friend twenty minutes into my ninety-minute massage slot. She was unbothered and invited me to shake it off, but I was having a hard time getting over it.
My friend was completely unrushed and unbothered. She did nothing differently. She met me with her usual warm tone and magical presence, even though I thought she’d be frustrated. We had a thoughtful chat, which made my taut body loosen a bit. And when I was on the table, she asked if there was anything she could do to make me more comfortable. Slowly my inner monologue shifted from “There’s no time!” to “It's safe to relax.”
And then I went into a massage-induced bliss coma. On and on it went. I remember lazily thinking, “Wow, she’s giving me the full ninety minutes. She must not have another client waiting. This is so generous.”
When I arose from my stupor, a weird thing happened. I looked at the clock, and we were only five minutes over my allotted time. I stared at the numbers for a long time. HOW. We had started at least thirty minutes late. I had definitely gotten the full, slow, luxurious massage with all the extra parts. I sat there, wrapped in my sheet, trying to do the calculations. By slowing down, she had somehow made more space.
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My friend Emma is a very experienced therapist. She once told me something she shared with a supervisee, who was in training. "If you have an hour and you act like you only have five minutes, urgency takes over and nothing gets done. The person won't feel seen or met in the moment," she said. "But if you only have five minutes left and you act like you have an hour, time stretches and a lot more can happen.”
We've all had experiences of stretchy time. I remember going to a weekend camp with my class when I was a kid. I was having the time of my life, playing outside and trying new things like archery and canoeing. And then someone said it was lunchtime, and I was totaaly shocked. How had we fit SO much fun in before lunch?!
I'm curious about this magic. If we relaxed and played more, would time stretch? Would we be more fulfilled by briefer moments? Would we feel less urgency about "making the most" of our lives?
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A couple years ago, I rattled off a long list of annual goals to a business consultant. “I want to become a coach, I want to teach classes and workshops, I want to finish my book…” I laid out my bold plan for the year with sparkling enthusiasm.
“This is all very exciting,” she said. “And you are fully capable of doing all these wonderful things. But this is not a one-year plan. This is a five-year plan.”
Her words hit me really hard. I remember walking around for several days with “five years” echoing through my head. Five years felt like an eternity. I was way too impatient for all my plans to take five years. I remember my heart thumping with fear, because I felt like my life was passing me by. It discouraged me so much, in fact, that I let go of the timeline completely.
And soon after that meeting, life did happen. I went through changes—big and small, desired and unwanted, expected and unexpected. And during that time—whenever I could—I kept showing up for myself.
And somehow, slowly, I made progress on my dream to start a business.
I didn’t do it by making a five-year plan. I did it by letting go of my plan completely. I did it by taking the pressure off. I did it by slowing down and living my life. And most importantly, I didn’t turn away from what I wanted. I took tiny steps toward it whenever I could. I kept following my curiosities and inspiration.
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I once heard someone say that we vastly over-estimate what we can accomplish in a year and vastly under-estimate what we can accomplish in ten years. This has been my experience.
I tend to set really big, unrealistic intentions in the short-term, not allowing nearly enough time for shifts in my energy and capacity, for inevitable obstacles and problem-solving, or for life’s curveballs.
But when I zoom out, I astonish myself. This past decade? Holy smokes, my life has changed in mind-blowing ways.
In early 2024 I shared that I have three big dreams I want to come true. If I’m honest, I wanted those dreams to be further along than they are at the end of this year. At times, I’ve felt disappointed, frustrated, and impatient with this.
But when I reframe my dreams as a multi-year direction for my life, I feel proud of my progress. I have a lot to celebrate and look forward to.
Long-term plans and deadlines don’t work well for me. What works for me is having a direction, showing up for it with devotion, and celebrating my wins.
That consultant I met with a couple years was on to something. Having ambitions is a beautiful thing, but adding time pressure means we’re constantly failing. Slowing down and being kind doesn’t mean things won’t move forward. It means things will move forward with less struggle and more flow.
I’d like to treat my life more like that magical massage. Slow way down. Pretend I have all the time in the world. Stay warm and present with what matters. Let it feel luxurious.
And then, one day, wake up astonished by how far I’ve come.
Your turn:
What's a recent memory when time stretched and you didn't feel rushed?
What would it look like to give yourself way more time for your long-term goals?
When you look at where you are right now, what would your past self be so proud of? How might that generous perspective change your intentions for the new year?