Thank you for joining me for the inaugural entry to my Slow(ish) diaries. Each month I’ll write a diary entry where I grapple with the concept of Slow Living. I would love to hear from you about your ideas, questions and comments around this concept so please do get in touch if you’d like me to cover anything in particular. If this isn’t your thing, you can manage your subscription below.
Dear Sweet Pea,
I’ve been batting around this concept in my mind for a while now and I’ve decided it’s time to start writing about it. There may be some people reading who don’t really know what I’m even talking about, and there may be others who may have a different definition to me. For this reason, I wanted to begin the first page of this diary mapping out what I mean when I say “slow living,” what I don’t mean, and ways I want this diary to help others.
3 possible definitions
First I’d like to say slow living itself carries many definitions and angles. If you google it you’ll be told ideas around taking a more relaxed pace of life, consuming less or living a more meaningful life. All these are true and it also means more than those ideals. I’ve thought about this a fair bit and I see slow living covering over arching strands:
slow living for wellbeing - by being more mindful, by taking time every day to pause, by being grateful for the life we have, by celebrating small things, by taking things more leisurely.
slow living is political - there’s definitely an anti-capitalist air to this way of living. Choosing not to buy more than you need, buying local, considering the environment in all choices, making ethical consumption choices, buying second hand.
slow living as an aesthetic - the term “romantising your life” is big here, thrifting hauls, frolicing in nature, video clips of journaling and staring out the window, drinking tea in the garden surrounded by blankets and cushions, buying vintage cushions.
None of the above are supposed to be better than the other - personally I find there’s plenty to love and scoff at with all those things. In fact, I think the truth of what slow living really is lies somewhere in the middle of the venn diagram of them all.
What I love about slow living
In all three of these zones there is certainly a mindset of positivity and a desire to live a bit more mindfully and meaningfully. We are in a national (and beyond) mental health crisis in many ways and so for all of us to take time to step off the hamster wheel, even if just for an afternoon a week must do us some good right? It does wonders for your wellbeing to cultivate a mindset where even a cup of tea or a walk around your block will have you being thankful for simply being alive.
Similarly, from the anti-capitalist perspective, anything that can help our environment and global community in even the smallest ways are surely things worth striving for? The more we learn about fast fashion, the more we learn about plastic in the ocean, about carbon emissions, the more powerless we can begin to feel. By practising slow living we can take back even the tiniest amount of control and if all of us are trying to at least do one thing with the planet in mind, it must amount to something.
And finally, from the aesthetic point of view, it gives you a sense of play. Of awe and wonder. These are also fantastic for your wellbeing. It feels good to celebrate a season or to put a little extra effort into something as simple as bunting when having a picnic with friends. Treating it as an art or a practice can boost your creativity too as you’re often thinking of ways to decorate things or to creative ways reuse packaging or save money.
What I hate (or at the very least don’t like) about slow living
I hate the fact that something so anti-capitalist, that really at the heart of it is about not spending money on things you don’t need, has become completely commodified by social media. It started with the introduction of the Danish concept of Hygge and it’s permeated our shops ever since. It has a way of making you feel like you need to buy things or for things to look a certain way or that you have to invest in loads of kit or do specific activities (hello wild swimming).
I hate the fact it can become another stick to beat ourselves with. We’re comparing ourselves to people online who smugly share photos of themselves in sunflower fields telling us to escape the rat race. We’re feeling bad that we bought a dress from a shop we thought was ethical then we find out they exploit someone else along the manufacturing chain. We’re needing to justify our choice to book ourselves in an all inclusive resort in Lanzarote because quite frankly we need an effing break right now and paying to sleep in the sun for a week is all we can manage.
And finally I hate the way it can stink of privilege. There’s often a sense that the only way to truly be “slow” is to live in the middle of nowhere or depart the city and move to a country village. This, for many people is unavailable to them either due to finances or their job. People working low income jobs in London are not exactly able to get the same job in a tiny village - and with local bus services being decimated, the need for a car becomes more important and we all know how much they cost!
So why do I want to pursue a “slowish” life?
In many ways I feel like I always have. Growing up in a tiny village in the 90s, my whole free time was spent frolicking in fields (not of wheat though, I’ll leave that for Theresa May). Without realising I’ve been an almost lifetime subscriber of a wonderful magazine called The Simple Things which is all about “taking time to live well.” I’ve always put leisure in my daily plans, perhaps instinctively knowing it’s the way to get the best out of me.
I’ve seen the way this lifestyle has been coopted by social media and the supermarkets and it sort of makes me want to reclaim it for “normal people.” We shouldn’t have to choose between urban and rural (we can’t anyway - imagine if every city dweller moved to the countryside?) We shouldn’t have to dress in smocking and floaty dresses to be seen as calmer, softer people. We certainly shouldn’t have to feel we need to buy a new set of Victorian wooden pegs when we have a whole bag of perfectly fine working plastic ones in our garden already.
The reason for the “ish” is because there are many parts of my lifestyle I don’t see as “slow” and I’m fed up of feeling embarrassed by them just because the internet algorithm tells me I should be. For example I do try my best to shop local, but I love Caffe Nero and fast food. I try to pick up litter in the street when I see it, but I also contribute to it by constantly forgetting my reusable bags and reusable water bottle when I’m in town.
For a long time I’ve felt panicked whenever I’ve tried to capture simple moments of magic, awe and wonder. Will someone notice the chain brand bag in the background? Will people notice that messy pile of pots and pans I’ve not washed up? Will someone call me out for eating a burger when eating red meat is killing the planet? Well, now I’m gaining confidence to simply share myself and my life in as an authentic way as possible. I want to start welcoming in this “criticism” as a way of a discussion rather than a “you’re in/you’re out” situation.
Slow living isn’t or shouldn’t be a club that you either sign up to or don’t. People who live in whatever slow way means to them are not more valuable human beings just because they don’t work a 9-5 or they use washable make-up remover pads. Just like people who buy disposable wipes for their kitchen worktops are not inherently evil. I think we can all benefit from evaluating our own relationship to our consumption choices but we can do this from a place of compassion not comparison.
My Slow(ish) Manifesto
I will become more mindful of my purchasing choices - and I won’t beat myself up if I end up buying something that may not be needed/100% ethical/eco friendly/from a chain.
I will prioritise leisure and play every day - and I won’t beat myself up if I end up slammed with work that I end up not managing to read for 30 minutes a day.
I will take pleasure in romanticising the small things in life - and I won’t beat myself up if I end up not present in the moment, planning the social media post about it instead.
I will attune myself to the seasons and nature around me - and I won’t beat myself up if I miss a seasonal event like blackberry picking or the flush of peonies.
I will not compare myself to other people’s lifestyle choices - and I won’t beat myself up if I catch myself feeling inadequate or smug when I do.
I will do what I can to make my local area, and my corner of the internet, a lovely, kind and positive place to be - and I won’t beat myself up if I find myself joining in with negativity.
I will take every opportunity to practice gratitude - and I won’t beat myself up if I can’t see anything to be thankful for in low moments.
You are very welcome to join me in this slow(ish) adventure. You can copy my manifesto or write your own. Perhaps you’d like to add some to it too! Do let me know in replies/comments if you do.
And finally, if this entry has left you with more questions than you did before you read, please do let me know, I’d love to address them in the next letter.
Take care and I hope you’ll join me next month.
Love Beth x
Also compassion not comparison is my new favourite phrase!
Thought this was great Beth - really honest about what slow living means to you right now and vulnerable about us all being a work in progress... also I love the point about we might be inconsistent sometimes eg using the wipes, eating the burger but that is because we are humans not machines living under a system which makes it hard to live slowly and thoughtfully - all progress is enough! X