Q: What does taking it slow really mean in today’s fast-paced world?
It’s about pausing long enough to notice the details that give life meaning.
Q: How does intentional living change everyday experiences?
Small shifts in mindset can turn routine moments into opportunities for reflection and connection.
Q: Why are people drawn to slower, more mindful lifestyles?
Because intentional living offers balance, presence, and a way to reconnect with what matters most.
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April 17, 2025, my wife Willa’s birthday
Over the course of the last decade, I’ve relocated from Great Britain to America. As a result, I’ve discovered the terror of the US tax system and the minefield that is filing a return. Worst of all, the tax return deadline is always a couple of days before my partner Willa’s birthday, adding twice the financial pressure that others feel around Easter. Not only do I always have to splurge on doing something special for her, but I also have to figure out how much I need to give to the federal and state governments.
As I’m a dyed-in-the-wool left-winger, I refuse to criticize the concept of taxation. However, I can’t help but feel resentment at America’s dedication to making taxes extremely complex and then spending almost all of the money it takes not on healthcare and public services but bombs and guns. Still, despite these feelings pushing through, I’m determined to ensure that Willa has a good day today and enact some good, old-fashioned emotional suppression as we prepare to head out and have fun.
Colorful vibrant tulip field with many varieties blooming.
Taking It Slow
Willa and my mother-in-law, Jill, who is visiting from the state of Georgia, decide that they’d like to visit the Brooklyn Botanic Garden, which is just a short bus ride from our apartment. So we take the B44 Select Bus up to Eastern Parkway. As the bus rushes along the streets that make up my adopted homeland, I notice the weather is almost a parody of a perfect day. The sky is cloudless. The forecast says that conditions will remain the same until sundown. In this instance, the forecast is right. The gentle breeze never reaches the point of becoming irritating, and the temperature remains comfortably at what a Brit can call summertime, meaning around 63°F (17 °C). As I walk the imposing blocks of Eastern Parkway, the realization that this will indeed be a wonderful day sets in, and I transform from a hustling-and-bustling New Yorker into a contemplative observer, and slowly, my financial worries melt away.
The families of people from all corners of the globe straddle the entrance to the Botanic Garden in a winding line that we hastily join. This is when I truly appreciate how special my home is. Yes, everything is ridiculously overpriced. Yes, the winters are grimmer than my Polish grandmother’s World War II stories. Yes, the rats are EVERYWHERE. But here, the people respect one another, smile at one another, and encourage one another to be themselves. Everyone is chatting, playing, and otherwise interacting. I think about London, my abandoned nation’s capital city. I was last there in August 2024. Sure, it’s a great city, but to me, it lacks the sense of unity and openness that only New York City effortlessly exudes. In 2019, I went to a Liz Phair concert in Prospect Park, near the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. I vividly remember the musician saying something akin to the following: “Everywhere I go, I feel like I’m really weird. Whenever I get to New York, I feel totally normal.” The first time I recounted this story to Willa, she replied by saying, “She probably says that to crowds in every city.” Bah.
Alleyway of pink blooming cherry blossom trees overhead.
Intentional Living
The tulips within the Botanic Garden, which I suspect are the main draw for a majority of visitors, are in full bloom. Their variations are as complex as the individuals that surround me. Thousands of subtle differences separate these related flowers. Again, the same can be said of the people here today. Yet, deep down, all of these flowers and people are the same. We all just want to thrive, to bloom, to have a comfortable amount of space while we’re here. On some level, I like to imagine everyone in the Brooklyn Botanic Garden is taking this message in. By taking it slowly, by admiring the world around us, we can realize just how similar our values are.
Places like the Brooklyn Botanic Garden make me wish I could take it slow and absorb the world around me more often, which, yes, I can do, but my psyche is constantly pushing me to do just the opposite and rush ahead. Anyone who has heard my average talking speed knows that I live at a rapid pace. I walk as fast as possible, with my surrounding cityscape often blurring into the corners of my perception. On days like April 17, 2025, I can envisage myself in a different light, as someone who rambles and slowly absorbs the passage of time by taking in my surroundings.
White cherry blossoms with a red garden torii.
Often, when I do take things at a winding pace, I start to feel anxious and like I’m wasting my precious time. When I take my dog to the park on a sunny day, for instance, we rush to my favorite spot, and soon, I absorb myself in a book or comic, with my headphones securely placed over my ears, blocking out audible intrusions. Huxley, my dog, is also desperate to engage with something. As soon as I get myself comfortable, his eyes dart around, scoping out the other mutts and checking which of their owners have snacks. I then let him off-leash, and he sprints from one end of the field to the other, stopping to introduce himself to anyone and any animal that appears friendly. Eventually, he settles. He comes back to me, sits down, and begins to take in the surroundings. I do the same, feeling hopeful that we will be able to overcome our differences, if we are able to sometimes take things slowly and observe how, ultimately, we’re all united and that we need to support one another, even if that does mean paying the dreaded taxes.
