Life in a slow lane

In a world that worships speed—fast food, fast tech, fast decisions—the Slow Movement may have arrived. It invites us to pause, to breathe, to reconsider the velocity of our lives. Not just in how we work or eat, but in how we move. How we exist. How we think or not think.

🧘‍♂️ The Limit of Slowness: Is It Stopping?

At first glance, slowing down seems like a gentle recalibration. But what if we take it to its extreme? What if slowness reaches its limit—not just a crawl, but a full stop? A full stop of movement and thought, mind and matter. What happens when we reach that state? What experiences emerge during the journey to a complete stop? As I started a deliberate attempt to slow down, I started to experience moments of complete stillness and pure joy and a courage to “just be” … no comparison, no rush, no anxiety. I started to see what Rumi alluded to when he quoted – “The most powerful action comes from sitting still. Let silence take you to the core of life.”

This idea isn’t just theoretical. In Zen practice, particularly in shikantaza (只管打坐)—translated as “just sitting”—we encounter the radical edge of slowness. It’s not about doing less. It’s about doing nothing. No goal, no technique, no purpose. Just sitting.

To the uninitiated, this might seem absurd. Stopping movement and thought? Isn’t that just… wasting time? Boring? Empty? Even lifeless?

Zen flips the script.

🌿 Stillness as a New Kind of Movement

In shikantaza, stopping isn’t stagnation. It’s transformation. When we cease our habitual activity—both mind and matter, physical and mental—we don’t fall into a void. We fall into presence. Into a subtle, spacious awareness that isn’t passive, but deeply alive.

This kind of stillness reveals a new quality of movement. Not the kind measured in steps or productivity, but in depth. In clarity. In being.

It’s a paradox: by stopping, we begin to move differently. More consciously. More freely.

🌀 Slowness as a Practice, not a Trend

Slowness isn’t just a lifestyle choice. It is a practice, a walk, a journey. A discipline. A way of reclaiming our time, our attention, our humanity. And perhaps, in moments of true stillness, we glimpse something beyond movement altogether—a quiet truth that doesn’t need to be chased.

It’s not about becoming inert or lifeless. It’s about a deep internal recalibration, a release from the constant push and pull of doing. By consciously choosing to stop our habitual movements and mental chatter, we create space for something new to emerge. This isn’t just about physical stillness; it’s about a profound stillness of mind that can, paradoxically, unlock new dimensions of awareness and presence in our every action, even the most subtle.

So, the next time you feel the urge to speed up, consider this:
What would happen if you didn’t?
What might you discover in the pause?

Or the next time you find yourself yearning to slow down, consider pushing the boundary a little further. Explore the profound potential of “stopping.” It might just be the most dynamic and transformative movement you ever make.