Everywhere, people are discovering that doing things more slowly

Hear, O children of wisdom, the words of Carl Honoré, prophet of the Slow Movement, who teaches: “Everywhere, people are discovering that doing things more slowly often means doing them better and enjoying them more. It means living life instead of rushing through it. You can apply this to everything from food to parenting to work.” In this declaration lies a rebuke to the fever of our age, where men and women race endlessly, mistaking speed for progress. He reminds us that the art of living is not in haste, but in savoring, not in rushing through, but in dwelling within.

The origin of this insight comes from Honoré’s reflections on modern culture, where speed and efficiency have been enthroned as gods, yet they rob life of depth, joy, and meaning. He witnessed how families rushed through meals, how parents hurried their children’s growth, how workers pressed themselves into exhaustion, all in pursuit of goals that left their souls unsatisfied. His teaching echoes the wisdom of the ancients, who saw that rhythm, patience, and stillness are as essential to the human spirit as breath itself.

Consider the tale of Mahatma Gandhi, who moved at the pace of principle rather than at the speed of politics. While the world demanded quick victories, he embraced patience, walking the long road of nonviolence, fasting, and steady persuasion. His way was slow, yet it proved powerful, for it was grounded in depth and conviction. So too, Honoré suggests, in the domains of food, parenting, and work, it is slowness—attention, presence, and care—that yields lasting fruit.

The emotional resonance of his words is profound. Food, when consumed in haste, fills the body but not the soul. Parenting, when rushed, overlooks the subtle treasures of childhood. Work, when done in fever, produces results but drains joy. To slow down is not to do less, but to do with greater fullness—to engage the senses, the heart, and the mind in harmony. It is to live life as a symphony rather than a frantic drumbeat.

In practical terms, his teaching calls for deliberate choices. Share meals without the intrusion of hurry. Sit with children, not to move them to the next task, but to listen to their laughter and stories. Approach work with presence, focusing on mastery rather than mere completion. Just as the farmer who rushes his harvest reaps poorly, so does the parent or worker who hurries through the moments of life reap emptiness. Slowness is not idleness; it is mindful presence, which strengthens the bonds of family, the joy of labor, and the nourishment of body and spirit.

There is also a heroic dimension here, for to resist the cult of speed requires courage. Society will scorn slowness, equating it with weakness or inefficiency. Yet the wise know that to be deliberate is to be powerful, for one who is anchored in slowness cannot be swept away by the tempests of haste. In embracing this path, a parent becomes more patient, a worker more skilled, and a human being more fulfilled.

From this reflection arises a practical lesson: let all who hear Honoré’s words seek moments of slowness each day. Turn off the engines of distraction. Sit in silence. Cook and eat with care. Listen deeply to your children. Approach your work with steadiness. In doing so, you will find that what once seemed a burden becomes a joy, and what once was rushed becomes meaningful.

Thus, the teaching endures: slowness is not loss, but gain. It is the reclaiming of life from the tyranny of haste. Let this wisdom pass down to future generations: that the fullest living is not found in speed, but in presence, not in rushing, but in savoring. For in choosing to slow down, one discovers not less of life, but infinitely more.