I'm Done Hurrying │ Choosing to Live a Slow Life Amidst the Chaos

My Hobbit Home

I'm done with hurrying.

I don't know what the deal is, but there is an epidemic of hurriedness in our society and I'm a part of the problem. It's driving me crazy and I aim to do something about it.

Now! Quickly! While I can!

Okay, see... why is that the first thing I think of? In everything I want to do, whether it's reinstating my blog, unloading the dishwasher, or running errands (all fifteen of them), I don't want to slow down. 

I don't want to take it at a snail's pace. I want it now, and I want it fast. But, why? What is it about doing things slowly that hurts so much?

There are quite a few books on this subject and in fact, my sister-in-law recommended a book to me called The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry. I knew I needed to hurry up and read it as soon as she told me.

But being that I'm on a no-hurrying kick, I went to my library app (because I don't want to buy the book yet. If it's good and I can't live without it, I may put it on my Kindle), and put on a hold to read it. 

It's going to take nine weeks to finally get to me and I've got six weeks left to wait.

Again, no hurry because that's my aim for the rest of the year.

Or am I just fooling myself?

Before I begin down the rabbit hole of reading more about the "unhurried" lifestyle because that is what I'm after with my slow living and minimalistic lifestyle, I wanted to define (to myself) why I was always in a hurry.

Unfortunately, when I read a book on any subject, that person's concept, ideas, and even their intent and angle become a part of my angle. I don't try to do this. But the more I read topics that interest me the more it becomes a part of me.

So, I wanted to contemplate my issue of hurrying before reading about it. Why was I hurrying? If I could identify the parts of hurriedness that surround me - and why I think it needs to be ingrained in my life - then maybe that would help me before reading all the books.

Here's what I've realized:

I hurry because I'm doing too much. Without a doubt, I underestimate the amount of time it will take to do anything. And in all honesty, I add way too much to my to-do list for the day. It's absurd. I've talked about lessening my to-do list before because it's unrealistic to have more than a handful of important things to do every day. It's insanity, actually.

When I go out sourcing vintage clothing for my Etsy shop, I know I'll have to make about eight stops. That sounds egregious. Who does that? But between four thrift stores on my Tuesday sourcing day, I have Target, the post office, and the grocery store thrown in there, plus others. 

Now, I'm choosing the four thrift stores. That's my choice, but it's also my choice to hurry up and get through them. If I want to slow down, take my time, be methodical, and find what I'm looking for, slowing down is imperative. These days, I've gone down to three thrift stores instead, and I'll take out Target if I can get what I need at the grocery store.

This all sounds supercilious, I'm sure. But when my income is based on what I find to sell, there's an underlying hurriedness (because there are so many other resellers out there doing what I'm doing) and I'm ultimately afraid I won't find what I need because I was too slow getting there.

But, that's the wrong way to look at it. There is more than enough to go around and the slower I look, the more I can see what I'm truly looking at. Who am I really in competition with? Certainly not the other fellow vintage resellers. I may think I am, but I'm not. I'm in competition with myself.; I'm trying to prevent scarcity. I want to make sure I have enough.

But "myself" is unreliable. I'm reading a fabulous book called The Scarcity Brain  by Michael Easter. I'll have to write a post on this book later but it goes into detail about this and it explains so much of the world and our pacing. 

So, those vintage items have to be searched for. It's a treasure hunt and I love it. But hurrying through the thrift stores wreaks havoc on my nervous system. Slowing down heals it. There's more than enough and I can do less and still get what I need.

I hurry because I don't think I'll have enough time. This is kind of true and kind of not true. Again, I'd have plenty of time if I had a realistic to-do list. I write every day so I have two jobs to fit into my week (vintage and writing) and then the rest of the jobs in the home (cleaning, cooking, etc). If I truly believe I have enough time and make sure I'm not overworking my schedule, I have plenty of time.

But so often, I'm thinking about my writing schedule while I'm out thrifting for my vintage store and it elevates my anxiety, which in turn kicks me into overdrive. When I realize I'm doing this, I have to force myself to focus only on what's in front of me. I tell myself, "I have plenty of time" and I say this over and over to myself, and get back into the groove of slowing down but staying focused.

It works well. If I believe I have enough time, I do. If I make sure I'm not overloading my schedule, I'll have time. If I try not to be superwoman, I have time! Less is more. Even when we think we need to do more.

I'm also used to having kids that needed me. Drive them somewhere, buy them something, make them food, clean something up. They're old now, they don't need most of that anymore, but I'm still hurrying as if they did. I have plenty of time. I have plenty of time.

I hurry because I love getting back home. I think this is an introspective, introverted tendency. I love being out, love being social (for x amount of time) and then, I need to get back home. My home is my sanctuary. There's a reason I don't mind doing all of my work at home: I love my home. I'm a Hobbit: I love gardens and books, and the "my precious" for me is working with vintage textiles and writing. 

I feel like Bilbo Baggins and I would've been great friends. (If you haven't read The Hobbit, read it and then watch the movie.)

I also hurry so I can come home and do nothing. (I say nothing, but by nothing, I mean reading, resting, and looking at my curated collection of vintage mugs.)

Regardless, my home will wait for me. Yes, I want to get all of my errands done and get home to pour that coffee so I can write, but hurrying through it (as I've discovered) does nothing for my well-being. Zero good comes from hurrying from place to place.

If I lessen my daily workload, tell myself I have enough time, and understand that I will get back home at the right time, that immediately calms my heart and slows my gait. I feel so much better. What needs to happen will happen. What's supposed to come to me will come to me. Hurrying through it all does nothing to change those outcomes. There will always be things to do. So, I'm giving it up.

I'm done hurrying.

If you're like me, you hurry too. What have you found that works for you? How do you make yourself slow down? Tell me what you do to slow down in the comments below. I'd love to know.

-Heather

Books on UnHurrying:

In Good Time: 8 Habits for Reimagining Productivity, Resisting Hurry, and Practicing Peace.

The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry

Growing Slow: Lessons on Un-Hurrying Your Heart from an Accidental Farmgirl

(As an Amazon Associate, some links are incentivized)

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Making Time For the Important Things │ Living a Simple Life

 A couple weeks ago, I stood in line outside of a thrift store I frequent waiting for it to open at 9:00.

I'm not sure why there are unwritten rules for this thrift store (none of my Goodwills have this issue) but this thrift store -which is one of the many thrift stores I frequent to source for my online vintage shop - has a long line on Tuesdays. They're closed on Sunday and Monday, so I'm sure that's part of it.

Tuesday is also their sale day and people like me who resell vintage, as well as others - many retired folks looking for a good deal - stand in line waiting for the doors to open. I feel very much like cattle being prodded into a pen.  

I was standing in front of a woman who reminded me of my grandmother. Next to her, was a young man, maybe 25, who was doing his best to ignore both of us. He was there to do what I was doing: sourcing for items to resell. I think I heard him say something about electronics.

The woman? She was there because she was on a fixed budget and she loved thrifting. I felt like I could relate to both of them.

She was a talker. She probably needed to talk badly. I assumed her days got long and boring at times and having someone to talk, to because we were stuck in a line, was a dream come true. 

After all, women need to talk more than men. Like, three times as much, just to feel good. This lady was living it up and getting in her words as quickly as she could! Who knew when she would have this opportune time again.

It's no wonder women talk to themselves. It's a part of our physiology and a part of being the phenomenal group of the female species.

I wondered how much talking this lady took part in for a day, particularly this Monday morning. I also wondered if she stood in line just to talk. Totally understood if she did.

Throughout the ten minutes we stood, this woman would ask the young man what he was looking for, and then she got onto vintage clothing and specifically mentioned an Eddie Bauer jacket that she still owned. She said she loved that jacket and that things just weren't made the same anymore.

I could not have agreed more. Vintage is superior to so much of our modern counterparts. 

And I thought about telling her that, but then that would mean answering questions from her, and this young man was doing fine fielding all of the questions.

I could tell he was a little exasperated with her. He was essentially answering questions from his grandmother. I'm sure he just wanted to put his nose into his phone and ignore her, but he kindly answered each question.

And kept answering her questions. 

I wanted to congratulate him on being the kindest Generation Z kid I've ever met. But, I didn't want to make him think he was talking to his mother. Being next to your grandmother is one thing, but also your mother? That was a sandwich I'm sure he wanted nothing to do with.

This day was a great reminder of several things:

• Women need to talk. Let them talk. 
• Vintage is (almost always) better than modern 
• There are young people out there who care... and they care about older people! 

I feel like he reinvigorated my trust in younger folks. This young man could have thought he had far better things to do than answer questions from a grandma he didn't know.

Nevertheless, he let her talk and responded with a sweet reply to each question.

The thing about living a simple life is this: we get to spend time doing what really matters. Sure, making a living is important. But, that's a small part of our cornucopia of the rich life we're learning to keep.

This young man was at the thrift store to make money, but he was also being kind, and honest. He let this woman he'd never met before ask him questions and tell him things he would never need to know, and he did it without telling her to leave him alone.

Grown and Flown Book!

He was living the tenets of a simple life and I was so proud of him.

He'll never know I heard all of this, or that I cared, but I really did. It was endearing and a beautiful thing to witness.

Speaking of proud, Grown and Flown (a fabulous website devoted to a range of issues relating to parenting teens and college students) recently published a piece of mine about how I felt when my son told me he wanted to enlist in the Marines. 

My son may not want to do this still (he's a high school senior and is figuring out all of it), but my need to express my thoughts on it oozed out of my heart and onto the proverbial paper.

I don't need to speak 20,000 words a day but I surely think them. And if I'm especially lucky, I get to write them onto the computer screen for all of you to read.

But here's what I know: sometimes living a simple life looks like choosing quiet over chaos. Other times, it means listening to a lady you don't know talk to you in line at the local thrift store.

Print Books Versus E-Books: Which One is Best?

Old books, new books, big books, small books. 

Dr. Suess could have written a story on the diversity of books and their wonderfulness.

One of my best friends and I talk about books versus e-books a lot. Which one is best? 

She and I are both writers. This means we write as much as we read, and we vacillate between using actual physical books and e-books. But we've come to terms with these multi-faceted feelings; sometimes an e-book feels better, and other times we grow weary of the digital page.

Here's what we always end up saying to each other: "There are days when we have to feel a book in our hands." It's also a way of clarifying that we're not cheating on print books when we choose the e-book.

I think a small part of us feels guilty for using our e-readers as much as we do. But why?

Books, the smell of books, the look of books, the way books feel in the hand... that's all part of the mystery, charm, and charisma of physical books; I love the pages turning in my fingers. Books are like little blessings you can walk around with.

These little capsules of paper give us knowledge, wisdom, creativity, and imagination. There are both escapism and reality. 

If we feel like being a part of the physical world, we grab an actual book. If we use our e-readers, I use a Kindle (and love it), then that's from which we read.

So, is there a better choice? 

I'm of the assumption that there's room for both in our society. And it's not about me placing one better than the other, it's about using what works best for me at any particular time.

When digital books began to take over, there was a huge uproar in the literary world: Real books could become obsolete! But that never happened.

It's true. At first blush, it could seem that if we went the way of digital, why would we ever need physical books again? Because that's just it: we don't need real books. There isn't a need for physical books if we have digital ones.

And yet, books are still here, still going strong, and threatening to overrun my local Goodwill store!

As a minimalist, I've pared down my library. I've done this probably once a year for the last seven years. But this year, I really cut off the dead branches and got rid of books that I would never read again. 

Is this extreme? Does this mean I don't love books? Does this mean I'm not a real writer if I don't have a 1000+ book library?

It could be viewed as extreme, but after paring down books for years, I'm seeing one thing that pulls in front of the book-keeping mystery debate: books are for show. 

They're good as props in decor, and they're good for making your library look fabulous. They're also great for making you look "well-read." But the question I should be asking myself is... am I reading all of my books? 

I equate this to collecting vintage Pyrex. I have a collection, it's huge, and I can't use it all at once. But I do use it every day. It's a utilitarian collection which is how (again, in my opinion) collections should be. Use them!

But, I wasn't even doing this to my books. 

I had a book or two (maybe three) that I would reference over the year, but that was it. If I was being honest with myself, I kept books that I liked, but most of my collection was not books that I loved.

Today, my bookshelves only have books I love. 

Minimalist Joshua Fields Hillburn, who co-authored Everything that Remains: A Memoir by the Minimalists (fantastic book, by the way) said this about books: "I thought my books made me somebody - someone important. Ironically though, it was a few quotes from a particular book I owned - Chuck Palahniuk's Fight Club - that inspired me to start getting rid of some of my books ... 'Reject the basic assumptions of civilization, especially the importance of material possessions,' and 'The things you own end up owning you.' Both quotes kind of woke me up."

If I truly love the book, that's what only needs to be on my shelves. So if real books aren't needed, does that mean I'll never buy a real book again?

Probably not. I love libraries, I love bookstores: I love the smell of books. There is no way I'll ever not want some print books in my life. 

I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but there's something monumental about a paperback purchased from an airport that a digital book will never convey.

What I do know is having a digital option has simplified my life tremendously. I only have the physical books I love or books I collect (The Great Gatsby is one of my favorites. I have a few editions, some vintage, some new and I'm okay with that.) But my bookshelves aren't filled up with frivolous reads.

This simplification continues because I primarily purchase digital books or check out digital books from my library. But that doesn't mean I don't love a good physical book. 

If I read a book that I'll need to reference in the future, I would much prefer a print book. Sometimes, I just don't want to reference a book on a digital device; I want to find it in my hands.

Stats say that most people like books and even prefer them. In the digital age we live in, that's a beautiful thing to read. Digital is easy, it's instant, and it's everywhere my phone goes (I use the Kindle app on my phone to read too).

Despite the ease of e-books, I still love a book in my hand. There is pure joy in holding a book, something to tote around; the book you dig into in the doctor's office waiting room.

Whatever you choose, even if you go back and forth like I do, I'd suggest only keeping books you really love. There's nothing like going to your bookshelves, looking at all the titles, and smiling knowing each one is there because you truly love them. They give a tangible joy that digital books can't give. 

(But, I love my Kindle also.)

The books in my library, whether print or digital, are both intentional and ones I adore. In the end, that's all that matters to me. 

Digital book, physical book, ebook, print book. 

Dr. Suess didn't break it down for us, but he didn't need to. There is no right or wrong way to read. It comes down to what you want and what works best for you.  

Happy reading!

Gratitude Creates Change

How Writing Down One Grateful Thing a Day Changed My Life

For all of 2023, I decided to write down one thing that I was grateful for at the end of every day.

We've all heard of this helpful hint to improve our lives; to use gratitude to remind ourselves how good we have it; to write down ten things we're grateful for every day, or to write down five things that made the day wonderful; keep a gratitude journal.

I understand the concept. And I fully endorse it.

But, for reasons I couldn't explain, I never "found the time" (i.e. wasn't willing to put in the time) to write them down. 

I am a grateful person. I am beyond thankful every day for the life I get to live, to do what I love, and to have my family with me. Life is good. I mean, really good.

But I decided to change the rules up a little. Instead of making things harder on myself, and writing yet another list, I decided to keep things simple. Simple living is my daily intention.

For 2023, I wrote down one thing I was thankful for in my day planner - you know, the old-school way of looking at the schedule and planning the day - and that was it. One thing.

This day planner of mine acts as a calendar as well as my to-do list. I try to keep my to-do list short because as I've talked about before, writing more than I can handle is absurd. I can't do it all and even if I wanted to, my day ends and my energy runs out before I have the chance to check everything off.

But... when it came to gratitude, I knew I needed to find a way to record the good things in my life. I wanted a way to look back at all the good things that happened in one year. Life had to be more than checking things off a list.

Journals are for long writing, and that's not what I wanted. I needed something that I could quickly add to my grateful line in my planner and settle down to read and drink tea for the night. 

I decided my day planner was the perfect place. 

So after writing my to-do list the night before for the subsequent day, and writing in calendar events, at the end of the day, I would add in my grateful bit.

But, I decided to put a spin on this gratitude thing. I decided to up the ante - raise the stakes, so to speak - and instead of writing "grateful thing of the day" I wrote "miracle" and proceeded to fill in the blank.

It wasn't that I was just grateful for this good thing, I certainly was. But I wanted to treat it like a miracle. 

Often things happen in our lives that are good, beautiful, kind, sweet, and crazy awesome. But, what about if I called these little things miracles? Would that open my eyes to what my life truly was?

So, I began treating all the good things that came to me as miracles. Because, let's be real here, in our world of doom and gloom, and of negativity everywhere we turn, I needed some good. I yearned for miracles. I wanted to relearn to see the good that should be prominent before me.

Here's a short list of things I listed as miracles that were a part of my "writing down one grateful thing a day" journey:

• Found a dime
• Talked with one of my best friends on the phone
• It rained!
• I sold something in my Etsy shop
• A magazine picked up an article of mine
• I ate dinner out
• Someone complimented me on my outfit
• I drank a great cup of coffee
• Finished a superb book

As you can see, most of these are simple things. Extremely simple.

So, why did I have to get to this point to remind myself that everything good that happens is really good? Yes, a big event is worthy of celebration but so is the sun peaking out on a rainy day, or the sound of birds chirping in my orange tree.

After a year of compiling my daily miracles, I could see that many good things happened to me all the time. The big miracles are no better than the small miracles.

And by paying attention to what I appreciated, or what good thing was directed to me, I began to take notice of so many things I took for granted. Waking up with breath in my lungs, the ability to hear, to smell, to see, or to feel the wind on my skin.

Just because these are things we experience daily doesn't make them any less miraculous.

My little miracles leveled the playing field of grand miracles.

Getting my autoimmune disease under control is a huge miracle. But so is finding a $5 bill in the pants pocket of a vintage piece of clothing I'm selling. They're equal to me. Because that's how I need to view it.

The size of the miracle is irrelevant. Paying attention to the miracle is what matters; that I'm seeing it, aware of it, and am thankful for it.

When we see how good we have it, it puts the negative in our lives into perspective. It unfetters us to the confines we've put on our lives- thinking they should be one way when they've gone another.

I feel like this has transformed my life - like I'm really getting to see what's happening around me. By paying attention to the small good things, I'm making room for more tiny miracles. Seeing and acknowledging small good things begets more small good things.

Being thankful allows us to be free to be who we are supposed to be: grateful human beings with tiny miracles happening all over the place.

Simple Living Means Less of Everything

Peace can be elusive. When we're stressed, it's the furthest thing from reach. 

Naturally, we look for ways to relieve the stress that surrounds our lives - whether that stress is from jobs, family life, relationships, or even our own thoughts. 

The car breaks down, the fence blows over in a storm (this just happened to us yesterday ), or an unexpected surgery threatens to sabotage our state of mind. Maybe a lifelong friend no longer wants to talk to you.

Life is stressful. 

But, when we accept life is stressful, it allows us to let go of wanting control (albeit, even if only a little). We learn to develop a "laissez-faire" attitude, which means letting things take their own course. 

It's a hands-off, come-what-may-approach to the things we don't have control over. Things such as other's actions and random events we can't foresee, even "acts of God."

But, other than the obvious relinquishing of control, some things cause stress in our lives that we do have direct control over.

When big stress came to me a few years ago, the only way I knew I could deal with the stress was by getting rid of the stressors I did have control over. When you gain an auto-immune disease that doctors can't fix, it tends to encourage the search for a cure. This happened to me and by changing my diet, and destressing everything I had control over, I stopped the disease in its tracks.

I did it by lessening my responsibility load as much as I could. Here's what I did:

Got rid of excess work: I've talked about this before. I had four jobs. That was way too much to handle. Instead, I pared down to the two I loved most: writing and vintage. As is the goal with minimalism and slow living, I pared down to love. While I learned much from my other two jobs, I was choosing this stress; forcing myself to work what I didn't love, which exacerbated my frustration at not getting to do what I loved.

Got rid of excess social media: This one seems so counterintuitive, but having had social media (and living without it for a couple months), having less to look at is a great way to reduce stress. Sure, it's entertainment, but when social influencers are pitching their latest "like" and let's be honest, they're pitching it so we will buy it, it contributes to a way of life not conducive to peace. Seeing more means we want more which means we own more. Get rid of that temptation, cut out as much social media as you can, keeping only what brings you peace and value. Unfollow influencers. Best decision I've ever made.

Got rid of excess clothing: Again, the closet is a maw for stress. Get rid of the clothes you don't wear, and create a stressless way to start each day. Imagine getting out of bed and not having to think about what to wear, or having to say to yourself, "I have nothing to wear." If you love what you have, every day is a great day to wear your wardrobe. Eliminate excess, keep only what you love, and you've just eliminated daily stress.

Got rid of excess stuff (in every closet and cupboard): This coincides with your closet purging. When I was stressed, going through the excess stuff I didn't use became therapeutic. I was able to purge closet after closet, donate it to people who will use it, and allowed me to focus on getting well. When my self-imposed stress of having stuff I never used was evicted from my house, peace returned. I was the landlord of my own mind once again.

This slow living is a way of life I've adopted over the years because it ameliorated the stress that was showing up in my body.  Less stuff in the house means less stress in my mind, which means stress is leaving my body. It means less of everything. And I've never felt better, even amidst the constant stressors that life throws my way.

There's a Psalm that says what I feel. "...do something good. Embrace peace - don't let it get away!" (Psalm 34:14, NIV).

If we want peace, if we want to regain control over the things we've let go (because we thought we needed these things), give simple living a chance. And don't let it get away.

Give the life of living intentionally a real chance and you'll find chaos diminishes like smoke.

This doesn't mean life isn't going to be hard. It is hard and always will be. There will continually be a mountain to climb up as soon as you've drifted down a different one.

But, when we eliminate the things that only add to the stress, we find life becomes manageable again. Most of all, we find life enjoyable. 

When that happens, peace returns. Less stuff (work, social media, and things in our home) makes living the way it's supposed to be and a return to the simple life our heart and soul craves.

vintage

The Power of a Quiet Life

I love Friday nights at home with a movie or a book, and my family alongside me. I also happen to love Friday nights when both my sons and husband are at work and I’m home alone. Whether alone or with people, the constant thing I yearn for is quiet living. 

Choosing a quiet life isn’t a popular choice, nor is it spouted as truth even if everyone over the age of 35 feels this way. You couldn’t pay me now to start the evening at 10:00 pm. I’m in my pajamas and socks as soon as dinner is over in my house.

There are times when a “wild” night out is necessary, which means we eat dinner at a restaurant at 7:00 pm and my husband and I might be out until the wee hours of 9:00 pm. 

I also love being with friends and family, and there are times when I desperately need to be with people. I’m not by any means antisocial. The community and fellowship feed a deep longing that being alone can’t fulfill. I also love musical theater, ball games, and parties.

But, as I’ve gotten older, I’m finding most of the time, it’s the quiet rather than the chaos that resonates with me. I’m not just talking about a loud room, or a concert, or a noisy atmosphere. I’m talking about a quiet life in general. It’s the lessening of social media, the fewer items in the closet, fewer events attended, and ridding my surroundings of all excess so that I can focus on my soul’s desires.

As I’ve learned to embrace the slower life without apology - and with the intent to truly enjoy what I love - I’ve found power in a quiet life. And the attributes that create this quiet have resulted in an effective and wonderful life.

I’m doing things that matter.

The best thing about living a quiet life is the ability to hunker down and do the things that matter. As I choose a minimal way of living in every part of my home and life, it allows me to see if what I’m doing is helping or hurting me. Will scrolling endless hours on social media help the quality of my life? Does shopping aimlessly help to keep my life quiet or only add to the noise of an overstuffed closet? 

When I choose the quiet life, like turning off the television and writing a letter, it makes me feel like I’ve added meaning to my life. At the end of the day, things that matter do matter.

I’m free to do what I love.

The power in my quiet life is about doing things I love. When it comes to keeping a quiet life, it means I’m choosing to read, play the piano, take a walk in my neighborhood rather than shop at the mall, peruse online clothing catalogs, or take a selfie to post on social media. 

A quiet life means I’m doing what I love without the need to do what others think I should love. I’m taking a yoga class because it feels good, rather than doing the latest exercise craze. My quiet life helps to dictate my freedom. And that I love, too.

I can keep my anonymity.

In our social-media-crazed world, where telling everyone everything all the time is normal, there is such power in taking that action back. I don’t need to post what I’m eating, where I’m going, or what I look like every day. 

We’re so used to doing and seeing this that when we take a step back from social media - posting or scrolling - there’s almost a visceral reaction to it. We can feel the superfluity of the TikTok or Instagram worlds. There’s power in anonymity and joy in taking a respite from the social media life. There is freedom in the choice of anonymity.

I can hear what’s happening.

It’s said that to be a good conversationalist you need to be a good listener. If the world around me is too loud, how do I listen? When I intentionally choose quiet actions, rather than loud ones, it opens up a dialogue that I desperately need to hear. With quiet, I can hear the nudge of my heart, I can feel the needs of my soul.

There are various pressures in all of our lives, so being able to make the right decision as problems, situations, and life events arise, allows us to make the most educated choices. When I hear what’s happening, I can keep my life on the track I want and need to be on.

I can hear what isn’t said.

Much like reading between the lines, sometimes life is talking to us but we can't hear it. Sometimes, we need to slow down, but we don’t because we can’t differentiate the chatter. The loudest voice is always heard the most audible. To hear the quiet, soft voice of truth, we need to understand that truth speaks gently.

I remember my youngest son was having trouble in school. He loved his classes but was frustrated by their size and the inability of his teachers to focus on his needs. He told me this, but the loud “voice” of keeping him in school with his friends spoke over the quiet truth.

It took me a year, but I finally got rid of the noise and listened to him. He was miserable! So, we pulled him from the school he’d been in for almost 10 years and put him in a charter school that resolved his frustrations. His happiness returned, his grades improved, and everything felt better. Sometimes, the most truthful things speak the quietest.

While the quiet life may not be the most popular way to live, that doesn’t matter to me anymore. Doing what is right for my body, soul, and spirit has become my top priority. To live a quiet life in a loud world, I have to consistently remind myself to turn down the loudness and implement the quiet as I embrace the slow living lifestyle. 

It’s not always easy, but let me tell you… my Friday nights are just the way I like them.