When All Else Is Speeding Up... Slow Down

We all know this world feels to be operating at a painfully rapid pace. When we aren't focused on overproducing, we're over consuming. There is a constant hum of "more, more, more" that seems to be the soundtrack to our society. Like the steady background noise of traffic hurrying along the highway, we often don't even notice it... yet our subconscious takes in the tune.

Make more money.

Get kids involved in more activities and making more friends.

Own more square footage of house.

Earn more accolades.

Fill your calendar with more events.

Buy more clothes. Or newer electronic devices. Or automobiles. Or home decor.

Meanwhile... I'm noticing my body, mind, and spirit craving the opposite. Less. Simpler. Slower.

Which has me thinking that for our optimal peace and wellness, perhaps when all else is speeding up... we need to slow down.

This past weekend we found ourselves off on an adventure through the Driftless region of Northern Illinois and Wisconsin. Winding through the scenic hills, I kept feeling the urge to tell my husband to slow down. Not because he was speeding beyond the limit, but because I simply wished to move more slowly through the landscape. The speed of our vehicles felt unnaturally fast amidst the peace and beauty of the bluffs and changing leaves. I pondered whether my soul's past lives spent so much time traveling by horseback that a part of me ached to return to this pace of travel. Logically, I knew that we if we wanted to get to our destination within the timeframe planned, we needed to keep moving.

We arrived to our cabin at Wisconsin's KOA campground in the Wisconsin Dells. While many venture to this area for summer waterparks or unique shops, we had other plans in mind. The scenery of landscapes unknown beckoned, and the next morning would find us lacing up our hiking shoes and ensuring our backpacks had plenty of water.

Before we took off up the East Bluff Trail in Devil's Lake State Park, we noted the map's description and caution to expect steep stone steps, narrow passages, and a dramatic elevation incline. The trail was considered strenuous. Would it be too much for our young kiddos? Would we get to see the beautiful Devil's Lookout and Balanced Rock formations that I'd seen photos of? We decided to take on the challenge after hearing an enthusiastic "Yes!" to our question of whether they thought they could handle it.

And handle it they did.

At one point I asked Adam to slow down slightly, only to have him chuckle and point to our three year old son and say, "I'm just following him!". Little Leo was setting the pace, looking as though he were born for this. Memories of him climbing anything he could from the time he could stand came flooding through as I watched him scale the rocks with ease. Hallie and I took up the rear with Lucy dog, who seemed to be grinning from ear to ear. She pointed out rocks that had unique shapes or colors as we climbed and we paused to glance back at the incredible view over the lake before continuing on.

It was a simple morning, full of putting one foot in front of the other, and it led to one of the best days we've had together. No screens (except for me occasionally slipping my phone out of my pack to take a photo), no toys, no excess, just moving our bodies through nature to connect with new landscapes and one another.

I noticed the friendliness of interactions. Lately, our social media feed and news briefings are filled with such divisiveness. From these trails, you'd never know it. As I attempted to get us all in a photo together, a smiling stranger offered to take our picture. We returned the favor with one of him and his daughter. Friends reached out hands to help others during strenuous portions. A warm woman encouraged the kids with a message of positivity as she descended while we climbed. An entire school group of sixty middle school aged children smiled as they passed by us, asking to pet Lucy and saying hello to the kids along the way. We asked if we were headed the right direction to Balanced Rock to a family coming from the direction we hoped it was, and yet another stranger offered to set down his professional camera to take Adam and my photo as the kids took a water break.

The hike was full of beautiful views. The leaves just beginning to show their phenomenal shades of autumnal shift, the lake glistening, and the rocks stacked upon one other provided their own sense of solid beauty. But equally beautiful as the nature views was the people. Nobody was in a rush, and even those hiking quickly did so with patience and respect of others. Friendly exchanges were heard, smiles between strangers shared, and not a single piece of litter was seen left behind. There was honor and respect of one another and our natural home as we collectively slowed our pace. Even the full campground housed respectful interactions and peace.

Once fed and back to this wonderful campground, we reveled at how perfect this cabin was for us. It was simple and unassuming, a small queen bedroom on one end, shared living space of kitchen, couch, and table in the middle, and a bunk room and bathroom on the other end. All solid wood with big windows letting in the natural light. The door opened to steps down to a little patio that contained a wooden table with four chairs and two rockers beside a firepit.

We had our clothing. A few groceries. Nature trail guides. Favorite blankets and pillows, and a few extra stuffies snuck along in our daughter's bag. My journal and books to read. It was really all we needed. Simple and slow, I read and wrote more than I had in the past two weeks combined. We found ourselves enjoying our last night there by lighting a fire and playing "Wilderness UNO" found at the KOA camp store... giggling together as Leo won his very first game played and rejoiced in his victory with arms held high and a little dance.

Returning home felt simultaneously comforting and distressing. While it felt good to be home once after our long weekend of adventures, I also found myself instantly launched in the stress of all there was to get done in preparation for the week ahead. Looking around, I felt the weight of this burden of excess. More rooms to clean, more clothes to launder, more stuff to pick up. I resolved to continue our process of decluttering and simplifying with greater commitment, that refreshing feeling of "slow and simple" fresh in my spirit.

We may not be able to do everything at once, nor have the energy for a complete lifestyle overhaul. We won't be off living in a cabin tomorrow. But what we can do is notice and observe. Just as I guide in Somatics + Meditation classes, we can notice what we're feeling and when. We can observe how certain items, activities, and people make us feel and explore why that is.

And when it seems that everyone else is speeding up... we can choose instead to follow nature's rhythm and slow down.

Healing & Peace,

Ashley Kay