On "Slow Life"

When I was younger, I wanted everything, and I wanted it now. I tried to speed up all of it — events, achievements, sensations. Life raced by at a furious pace, and I was afraid of falling behind. These days I find myself wondering: what did all that rushing actually give me, besides constant anxiety and exhaustion?

Some things simply can’t be rushed. They need their own time, their own ripening, their own rhythm. But back then I wouldn’t even let in the thought that something might happen “later” — I’d ask myself right away: “What do I need to do to make it happen now?” If not now, it seemed to me, then never.

Over time I realized: the craving for an immediate result often says nothing about the goal and everything about an inner need. About a feeling of incompleteness — as if we were desperately missing something. But that runs against the consciousness of abundance — that inner state in which everything is already here.

The consciousness of abundance isn’t a metaphor. It’s the recognition that everything we’re looking for — joy, love, experience, plenty — already exists inside us. Maybe not yet in the outer world, but the only question is when and how we decide to reach for it and live it as something tangible. An emotion, an event, a purchase, an achievement — these are all just different forms of a potential we already hold.

That’s how life stops being a race and becomes a river. We’re not sprinting ahead to catch something. We stand at the point called “now,” and from that point we choose which experience to live — one after another. No rush, no anxiety, no sense of lack.

To live from need is to move from fear. From the fear of not getting, not making it in time, missing out. And fear is the opposite of trust. We can’t, at the same moment, know that we have everything (or will) and be afraid that something will run short. Fear shows up wherever faith is missing.

The more I trust myself and the world, the less I need to hurry. Everything comes in its own time — and it comes better than I could have imagined, and it’s lived more deeply, more fully, with more meaning.

There’s a saying: “Whoever has understood life is in no hurry to live.” It isn’t about passivity, and it isn’t about giving up on ambition. It’s about wisdom — not trying to live everything all at once. Imagine if in a single day we received every experience we ever wanted: children, houses, yachts, travels, emotions, relationships, encounters, sex, recognition, dreams.

And then what?

Where’s the savoring of the win? Where’s the anticipation? Where’s the joy of the path, of progress, of the warmth of a long-awaited reunion? It would all blur together, like a dish where every ingredient and every spice got thrown in at once. There’s no taste left in it: no bright accents, no fine nuance. Just a grey mush of fulfilled desires.

Living a “slow life” doesn’t mean living slowly. It means living attentively, with purpose, unhurried. With room to feel every emotion, every meeting, every joy, every flash of insight. And then life becomes truly full and rich. Real. And meaning appears in it.

I don’t want everything at once anymore. I know that everything I dream of will happen in its own time. And I want to live those moments to the fullest — one after another.

Here’s to remembering that everything we need is already inside us. May every experience take its place in the timeline of our life — and may we live it with relish, with gratitude, with joy. 😎