Our blog this month has been written by Rev Rob Tugwell

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In an age defined by speed—where emails fly across continents in an instant and meals are designed for convenience over communion—it is tempting to see life as a race against the clock. We are encouraged to move faster, achieve sooner, and multitask endlessly, as if the ultimate measure of worth is how much we can do and how quickly we can do it. Yet, beneath the relentless hum of urgency lies a quieter wisdom: the art of not rushing. To live without haste is not to abandon ambition, but to rediscover a depth and richness that only patience can reveal.

We often find ourselves feeling pressured by invisible deadlines, even when no one is keeping score but ourselves. Modern culture elevates the concept of “busy” to a badge of honour, equating packed schedules with productivity and self-worth. We are told to “hustle harder” and “seize the day,” often without questioning whether the day is something to be seized or simply experienced. This constant pressure can lead to anxiety, burnout, and a life lived in perpetual anticipation of the next moment, rather than full presence in this one.

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The act of slowing down is radical in its simplicity. It is not about moving in slow motion or inhibiting progress, but rather about allowing moments to unfold at their own pace, to be present for the gentle rhythms of daily life. When we stop rushing, we become more attuned to our senses: the warmth of sunlight on our skin, the laughter of a friend, the subtle flavours of a well-cooked meal. We begin to notice the intricate patterns that compose the fabric of our days.

Slowing down also fosters deeper connections—with ourselves, with others, and with our environment. Relationships require time to develop and mature, trust grows with repeated acts of presence, and creativity flourishes when given space to breathe. 

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Nature, perhaps our greatest teacher, operates on its own timetable. Seeds sprout, seasons change, rivers carve canyons, all at a pace that cannot be forced. The cherry tree does not blossom because it is told to hurry; it blooms when the conditions are right. By observing the natural world, we are reminded that growth is a process, not a product. There is beauty in patience, and in trusting that what is meant to unfold will do so in its own time.

 

Some practical ideas to help us slow down:

• Begin your day with a few moments of stillness. Focus on your breath, notice the sensations in your body, or simply observe the world around you. 

• Set meaningful priorities: Not everything demands equal urgency. By identifying what truly matters to you, you can allocate your time and energy more intentionally, rather than reacting to every perceived emergency.

• Embrace single-tasking: While multitasking may seem efficient, it often fractures attention and diminishes the quality of our efforts. Give yourself permission to focus on one thing at a time, savouring the process and the result.

• Allow for pauses: Incorporate breaks into your day. Step outside, stretch, or simply sit in silence for a few minutes. These pauses are not wasted time, but opportunities for restoration and reflection.

• Appreciate small joys: Take notice of the simple pleasures that arise when you slow down—a cup of tea, a favourite song, the quiet hush of evening. These moments, though easily overlooked, are often the ones that linger in our memory.

 

Interestingly, slowing down does not necessarily mean accomplishing less. On the contrary, when we are less frantic, our minds are clearer and our actions more deliberate. Tasks are completed with greater attention and care. The myth of speed as the only path to success is being challenged by research that shows how rest and reflection improve problem-solving, creativity, and emotional intelligence.

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Slowing down is not a one-time event, but a practice to be cultivated. It is about making conscious choices—perhaps walking instead of driving, cooking instead of ordering take-away, listening deeply rather than half-hearing. It is found in the way we greet the morning, the patience with which we approach our work, and the care we take in our relationships.

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In choosing not to rush, we choose to live more consciously and more fully. We reclaim the present moment from the tyranny of the clock, finding meaning not in how much we do, but in how deeply we experience what we do. The art of not rushing is, in essence, the art of living well—savouring the ordinary, embracing the unforeseen, and allowing life to unfold as it will.

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So, next time you feel the urge to hurry, pause. Breathe. Listen. Remember that the most beautiful stories—like the most beautiful gardens—take time to grow. In the gentle unfolding of each day, in the quiet spaces between achievements, life offers its greatest gifts.