"Slow" living doesn't mean you'll never be busy

On staying connected during hectic times.

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The first thing I did this morning - after putting in my contacts and brewing my tea, of course - was make my bed.

Then I made my grocery list. Then I puttered to the kitchen to feed my neglected sourdough starter. Then I watered my plants and went grocery shopping. I picked Clara up from school, fed the chickens, did the dishes, did a load of laundry, marinated some lamb chops for dinner. Right now I’m sitting down to write this letter for you, after which point I’ll go for a walk in the woods.

These are all things I haven’t had as much space for as usual in the past two very busy weeks since my book release. And while, from my description it may seem that today has itself been pretty, well, busy, it has actually felt restful. I relished having a completely blank calendar, without a single call, meeting, or outside-the-home obligation scheduled, and I’ve also found a gentle pleasure in using that free time to set my home space back to rights: it feels like both a restoration and a reclamation of a lifestyle that leans decidedly toward the “slow” end of the pace-of-life spectrum.

I used to live mostly at the opposite end of that spectrum, with very little white space in my life - so I know what that looks and feels like, too. And sometimes I actually get a little panicky when I sense that some future event might threaten my equilibrium: I so badly don’t want to go “back there” that I can find myself avoiding even one-time disruptions, like an invitation that will keep me out past my usual bedtime or a particularly involved freelance assignment.

But the reality is, neither extreme (super-busy, or snail’s-pace-slow) is a healthy or realistic place to live all the time. I know this logically, but I’ll admit that I faced down the release of The Last Parenting Book You’ll Ever Read with a fair amount of trepidation. Even though I planned for a “slow” book launch, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do right by my book without also taking on a big uptick in my obligations and disruption to my usual routine. Would managing longer days, with much more screen time and more in-person peopling than I’m accustomed to, throw me into a tailspin, where I’d either feel incapable of coming back “down” from the adrenaline-fueled high, or I’d just…crash?

I’m grateful to report that it did not.

I feel pretty great today, really. Neither bone-exhausted (though I’ve definitely had moments of tiredness over the past couple of weeks!) or anxiously trying to downshift while feeling stuck in high-activity mode, both states in which I’ve found myself after similarly hectic periods in the past.

I think there are a couple of reasons for this. The first is that, from the very beginning, I’ve viewed the intensive phase of book promotion as a temporary condition - not a place where I intend to hang out indefinitely. That was the expectation I set for myself going in, and knowing that was the intention has definitely helped me feel peaceful about moving on to something more “normal.” Of course, I will continue to talk about this book wherever and whenever I can over the next months or years, but I decided going in that I needed there to be a “container” around the most intensive efforts so I didn’t get stuck in constant book promo mode - and that’s helped.

A second - and I think possibly more important - reason is that I am just better at downshifting now because my baseline has changed. Since my default is a quieter, more connected, and more restful pace, it’s much easier to get back into it quickly when I want or need to, because I quite literally know what needs to be done (feed the sourdough, make the bed, go for a walk, delete the Instagram app) to get myself back to my preferred baseline. I don’t have to spend as much time spinning my wheels, trying to figure out how to calm my nervous system so I can truly rest.

Once upon a time, I would have powered through a busy time by layering more and more activity on top, and when I struggled to downshift, I would have turned to numbing or escapist behaviors like endlessly scrolling social media, seeking out wine-soaked social events, or shopping. Instead, this time around I stuck to some foundational routines, and I think those practices - applied as a proactive foundation while I was still feeling good, rather than as an emergency Hail Mary when I was already circling the drain - helped me keep my feet on the ground. As a result, the much “busy-er” mode I’ve inhabited over the last couple of weeks was mostly-fun and exciting, even if I wouldn’t want to live in it forever.

It’s not possible for most of us to live a life that is free from “busy-ness”. Nor, I think, would most of us want to even if we could. Humans are made to move, to work, to think, to create.

We are also very susceptible to all-or-nothing thinking. The aesthetic that social media sells us seems to imply that “slower” and “simpler” living looks a certain way, and that if we stray from that, we aren’t doing it right.

But what if the goal is connection and wholeness instead of a simple (and impossible) absence of busy-ness? If that’s the case, we can build up our foundation during the less-busy times by intentionally investing more time and energy in the activities that help us feel connected and whole rather than distracted and fractured.

Then, when things do get busy - as they inevitably will - we find that we can find moments of calm in the craziness and also return again and again to the quiet place we’ve created for ourselves. Perhaps the “slowness” isn’t what’s on happening on the outside at all, but instead it’s about our inner calm: less about our levels of activity, and more about our reactivity to the world around us.

If you saw me working around my house today you may have seen what looked like a very busy woman. But all that puttering felt like creating a foundation of peace to help me quiet some of that exterior noise.

Busy-ness is always with us. I can’t run from it. But I also don’t want to live inside it. And that’s where creating a foundation of peace is so helpful.

For me, that foundation is made up of my kitchen routines, lots of outdoor time, reading and writing, my tea ritual, caring for my chickens (and sometimes, still, my children).

All “active” things that somehow still create a sense of stillness and connection, so that when life gets busier, I’ve got a slow and steady footing underneath me.

What creates stillness and connection for you? Tell me about it!