S-L-O-W D-O-W-N NOW

The first time I discovered what it meant to slow down, I was living on a small working farm in Ashford, Connecticut. I was 20 years old, 289 pounds and found myself obsessed with one of the sheep. A number tag reading 9509 hung from her ear so, instead of naming her, I creatively called her 9509. Day after day, when I’d return to the farm after a full day of working on campus, I would sit on a plastic patio chair with my journal and gaze out on to the farm. I would write until the sunset on my day, knowing I would rise at 5am to scoop pony poop and, then, shower for work. Daily, 9509 would often lay at the front of the fence, while the other sheep drifted in the field, greeting me every morning and evening. I swore 9509 sensed my schedule and timing; that she sat by the fence to keep me company. Or, maybe I kept her company. Either way, there was a mutual calm between the both of us.

I grew up in a loud, crowded house and a loud, crowded city. Farm life was new to me, naturally slower and wifi free in 2001. Everyday I lived a quiet life, one that was much slower than I did in Brooklyn, NY and much more sober and less distracted than I did living in college dorm halls. The shift to slow down was natural, and that summer, it greatly benefited my life beyond a 160 pound weight loss. To that summer I owe my love of writing, cooking and a profound understanding of the benefits that come with slower days and slower living. Now, in our modern age of screens, dings and boundary-less communication, to slow down means being deliberate about our choices.

In light of a windfall of technology and ways to be “always on,” aging parents, life changes, work shifts, personal financial responsibility and thinking about how the seasons shift - I’ve been working towards taking more chances to slow down. When I slow down, I am reunited with my emotions, creativity, a universal love and sense of wonder. I know all of this lives inside each and every one of us. But, how do we get there? Or, how do we get back there if it’s something we once knew and felt?

Since returning to New York City after a split 5 months in Oaxaca, Mexico and Myrtle Beach, South Carolina I’m relearning how to be with myself and how to be in my body here. I’m relearning how to transition while living in different environments and how to honor my needs right now. Typically I’m on a natural wake up time of 5am, but I’ve found that since it gets lighter later in the morning, my normal rising time isn’t serving me at the moment. I might rise and open my eyes, but I now lay in bed doing breath work. I remain still, and it’s in this time that I often pray. I use the darkness to talk to God. I close my eyes and imagine he is covering me in light and peace. You know, as opposed to jumping out of bed, brewing coffee and sitting down to write my heart out, go on an hour walk and then do an intense 90 minute yoga practice. My mornings now have a different order, a different cadence. I know it’s all temporary, and that is what allows me to accept the change in routine. How can we be both gentle and deliberate with our choices and slow down with grace?

My once super strong and super fast paced yoga classes no longer feel aligned with my mind or body because NY is fast and life feels in a state of change and constant fluctuation. Each morning has been different, but if I deliberately decide to counter that energy, I wondered what could happen? On many days, over the course of the last few weeks, I rolled out my mat to stay in child’s pose for 40 minutes straight. To feel the breath of my belly press against my thighs because in that moment, I was in my body. I was safe. Sure, at first I felt terribly guilty about “breaking my dedicated yoga practice,” but I’m finding ways to adapt because, when I check in, my body and mind do not want to compete with the energy circulating around me. Make sense? If I can go slowly and become soft while everything is moving fast; if I can delay a response for even 1 minute and breathe; I realized that I can change the way in which I enter a situation. I can change how I feel. Patience in understanding this season, and my physical needs, has been critical to my emotional well being.

Well, how can we slow down? Why is it important for our physical and mental health? Our bodies store emotions, past trauma and fear. And the more gentle we are with our bodies and nervous system; the more we can listen and pay attention, the better we can potentially feel. If you want to learn more about this concept of the body and its intelligence, you might want to read or listen to “The Body Keeps the Score.” It’s free to listen to the audiobook with a Spotify Premium subscription.

Here are some of my daily, if not, weekly, practices for entering slow down mode. Everyone can participate, yes, even you, Dear Reader. Love yourself enough to slow down. Love yourself enough to know you’re enough and that nothing has to stop your peace. Again, I’m no master, and I’ve met many moments of not feeling at peace in the last few months, but it is in the practice that we find space, calm and a love within ourselves that we can share with others.

Sit still and find your center, find God, find the universe inside of your heart. 
Laugh because it is the best medicine.
Open up to a friend or loved one. Don’t hold everything inside, even when it hurts, let it out. Emotions get trapped in our body and lead to feeling physically unwell.
Wonder by dreaming a dream or two, look up, look down, look all around and observe your surroundings and find magic in the mundane. Let your mind escape and create a new story. You don’t have to write it down, just let your brain wonder and wander.
Dance and shake it up! Shake it out, release those emotions and free your body of burdens!
Organize your space so that you can’t think clearly in clutter.
Write and Work on something new. Pick up a notebook and let it out. Pick up a new book, skill or otherwise. Create mental peace and sharpness by freeing your mind but also keeping it in motion.
Nature, Nurture and Nap because you’ll accomplish more after taking a walk outside, looking up at the trees and closing your eyes for 20 minutes to reboot. Every thing will seem possible and, if not possible, at the very least, better.