It's about learning how to slow down... I think this Covid

In the gentle yet profound words of Melissa Leong, we hear a truth born from hardship, yet radiant with wisdom: “It’s about learning how to slow down... I think this Covid environment that we’re in, there’s a lot of sadness and a lot of pressure going on in terms of the uncertainty, but what it is teaching us or forcing us to do is appreciate the small things: be grateful for a slower pace of life.” These words are not merely a reflection of a passing age of struggle—they are a mirror held up to humanity itself. For in them lies the lesson that even in times of chaos, one may find clarity; even in uncertainty, one may find peace. Leong calls us to remember what the rushing world had made us forget: that life’s truest treasures are not in haste, but in stillness—not in accumulation, but in gratitude.

When the world was silenced by the pandemic, a great and unsettling stillness fell upon all nations. Streets emptied, cities slept, and the rhythm of modern life—once driven by speed and noise—was forced into pause. For many, this was agony, for they had long forgotten how to be still. Yet as days passed and the noise faded, something ancient stirred within the human heart: the awareness of the small things—the sunlight that streams through the window, the laughter of a loved one, the simple act of breathing freely. In her wisdom, Melissa Leong saw what many could not—that this moment of enforced stillness, though heavy with grief, was also a lesson sent by life itself. It was teaching humanity the lost art of slowing down, of dwelling in the present, of finding joy not in what we chase, but in what already surrounds us.

This truth is not new. The sages of old spoke it long before our time. The Stoics taught that peace is not found in abundance but in acceptance, and the Buddhists taught that enlightenment begins in mindfulness—in the act of being fully aware of each moment. Even in the writings of the ancients, in the dusty scrolls of forgotten centuries, we find echoes of Leong’s insight: that haste is the enemy of wisdom, and gratitude is the seed of joy. For the soul that never pauses to breathe, to feel, to listen, soon becomes lost in its own striving. It was the poet Laozi who said, “Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.” So too must man learn again to walk with the pace of nature—to let life unfold as the river flows, unhurried, yet unstoppable.

Consider the story of Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-king of Rome. Surrounded by war, plague, and the burdens of empire, he could have drowned in despair. Yet in his solitude, he wrote meditations to himself, reminding his soul to find peace amid the storm. “Do not let the future trouble you,” he wrote, “for you will meet it with the same reason that guides you now.” In his forced stillness, like ours in the days of Covid, he found that serenity is not born from ease, but from understanding. He too learned, as Leong teaches, that slowing down is not weakness—it is strength. It is the deliberate act of choosing presence over panic, gratitude over grief.

Melissa Leong, known for her warmth and authenticity, speaks not as a philosopher in marble halls, but as a voice of the modern spirit—a spirit weary of endless running. Her words during the pandemic remind us that when life halts, we are given a sacred chance to look inward, to rediscover what we have neglected. The hurried life teaches us to measure worth in achievement, but the slowed life reminds us that worth is in connection—with others, with nature, with ourselves. To appreciate the small things is to open the eyes of the soul, to see beauty in simplicity, and to awaken gratitude for what is already ours.

This slowing down is not surrender—it is transformation. It is a return to balance in an age of imbalance. It is learning that the morning cup of tea, the sound of rain, the breath of wind on the face—all these are not trivial moments, but sacred ones. They are the quiet gifts that sustain the human spirit. In choosing to slow down, we learn to heal—our bodies from exhaustion, our minds from fear, and our hearts from forgetting. Just as the soil must rest between harvests to regain its strength, so too must the soul rest to renew its light.

So, O listener and wanderer of this restless age, heed this wisdom: learn to slow down. Step away from the noise and into the stillness. Let gratitude be your guide. Do not wait for crisis to remind you of what matters; begin now. Turn off the clamor of distraction and listen for the heartbeat of life—the rhythm that has always been there, quiet but unending. In every breath, every dawn, every gentle act of awareness, you will find the peace that no storm can take from you.

And remember always the words of Melissa Leong, born of both sorrow and revelation: “It’s about learning how to slow down... and appreciate the small things.” These are not words of resignation, but of rebirth. For when humanity learns to live in gratitude for the moment, when it rediscovers the joy of simplicity, then it will once again live in harmony with itself. To slow down, then, is not to fall behind—but to finally walk in step with the heartbeat of life.