The Art of Slowing Down

“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.” – Anne Lamott

I find my calm in the simplest of rituals. A quiet morning with sunlight spilling through the curtains, the steam rising slowly from a cup of hot coffee in my hands. The soft turning of a book’s pages becomes a rhythm of its own, steady and grounding, like a gentle reminder that time doesn’t always need to be chased.
When the world feels heavy, I step outside. The breeze carries away the noise of my thoughts, and the rustling leaves sound almost like whispers of encouragement. A slow walk beneath trees, or the golden glow of dusk settling on the horizon, feels like medicine for a restless mind. Even the smallest things—the song of a bird, the play of light and shadow—have a way of untangling the knots inside me.
Sometimes, relaxation is as simple as closing my eyes and listening to my own breath, like waves lapping against a quiet shore. In those moments, I remember that peace isn’t hidden in faraway places—it lives in the pauses, waiting to be noticed.
To relax is to honor these pauses. It’s the art of slowing down, of letting stillness flow back into the corners of my life. And each time I do, I return not just rested, but more alive, more grateful for the beauty that lingers in the ordinary.