The Slow Living Collective

• The Art of Doing Less

  Let’s talk about something wildly underrated: rest. Real rest. Not the kind you cram into the five minutes before a Zoom call or the kind you feel guilty for taking because your inbox is overflowing. I’m talking about deep, intentional rest, the kind that only comes when you decide to do less. Not once. Not just on Sundays. But as a way of living.I used to think rest was something you earned. Like a prize for making it to the end of your to-do list (spoiler: that list never ends). I measured my worth in how productive I was, how many balls I could keep in the air, how often I could say “I’m so busy” with pride. If I wasn’t exhausted, was I even trying?You probably know how this story goes: burnout came knocking. Not once, but repeatedly. Each time more insistent, more draining. I’d built a life that looked good on paper but felt awful to live inside of. It was all noise and motion and achievement, yet I was rarely present. Rarely rested. Rarely me.Eventually, I reached a point where I realised something had to change. I could no longer pretend that pushing through was sustainable. That always being available, always saying yes, always “making it work” was healthy or heroic. I had to do less. And not just temporarily. Permanently.The Glorification of BusyWe live in a culture that celebrates being busy as a badge of honour. Productivity is treated like morality, like the more you do, the more you’re worth. Rest, on the other hand, is often dismissed as laziness or indulgence. Even when we do rest, we’re expected to make it look productive: meditate with an app, stretch while listening to a podcast, journal our gratitude list while lighting the perfect candle.But here’s the hard truth:* You can’t heal your exhaustion with more output.* You can’t find stillness by constantly chasing it.* And you can’t live intentionally when your life is dictated by everyone else’s urgency.We are bombarded with messages to hustle, scale, grow, and maximise. But what if the real work is in slowing down, scaling back, and learning to be instead of do? What if the bravest thing we can do is opt out of the race altogether?Doing less is not failure. It’s wisdom. It’s recognising that your energy is not infinite, and your life is not a project to optimise.What Doing Less Really MeansDoing less doesn’t mean abandoning your responsibilities or opting out of life. It means becoming discerning. It means creating space, not just in your calendar but in your mind. It means letting go of what drains you and making more room for what nourishes you.To me, doing less means:* Saying no to things that don’t align with my values, even if I could technically “fit them in.”* Not filling every gap in my day with noise or scrolling or productivity.* Choosing quality over quantity—in conversations, in work, in how I show up for the people I love.* Allowing slowness, even when urgency feels like the default.This work is uncomfortable, especially at first. Slowing down brings up things we’ve long ignored. The fears we’ve buried under busyness. The questions we’ve avoided by staying distracted. But once the dust settles? What’s left is a life that feels rooted and real.My Journey to RestLike so many others, the pandemic was my reckoning. When everything came to a standstill, I finally saw how exhausted I was. How performative my life had become. How disconnected I felt from the version of motherhood, entrepreneurship, and womanhood I was trying to maintain.The pause was uncomfortable, yes. But it was also illuminating. Without all the noise, I could hear myself again. And I didn’t like what I heard at first. I was tired. I was unfulfilled. I was running a life that didn’t reflect my values.So I began to let go. Slowly. Imperfectly. I gave myself permission to stop trying so hard. To rest without earning it. To stop equating success with being “on” all the time.Now, rest is no longer a reward I grant myself for surviving the chaos. It’s a foundation I build my days on. It’s in how I work, how I mother, how I simply exist.Slowness isn’t something I slip into when I have a break. It’s the frame through which I view everything now.Rhythms of Everyday RestRest doesn’t have to be grand or Instagram-worthy. It’s often quiet. Unseen. Unshared. It’s saying no to a commitment that drains you. It’s a slow cup of tea without your phone in hand. It’s going to bed earlier, not because you’re old or boring, but because you respect your body enough to let it recharge.Here are a few small ways I intentionally weave rest into my days:* I leave space between tasks instead of back-to-backing my day.* I let myself sit without a podcast or distraction, just breathing.* I cook slowly, not to impress, but to nourish.* I put my phone in another room when I rest, because I know it steals more energy than it gives.* I choose one big thing to do in a day instead of five, and I let that be enough.These are small acts, but together they change the entire tone of my life.A Change of Pace for the PodcastAs part of walking my talk, I’ve decided to shift the podcast to a fortnightly schedule this summer. Instead of weekly episodes, you’ll hear from me every other week.This isn’t about stepping back. It’s about stepping in. Deeper into my values. Deeper into the slower rhythms that summer invites. I want to enjoy this season, not just plough through it. I want to sit in the garden with my children. To watch the light change. To live the slower life I talk so much about.The podcast will still bring you intentional, meaningful conversations. But they’ll come with more space around them. And hopefully, that space becomes something you feel too, a nudge to create breathing room in your own life.The Radical Act of RestingIn a world that thrives on speed, choosing slowness is radical. Choosing to rest not when you’re broken, but before, is an act of rebellion.You don’t need to be on the brink to take a break. You don’t need to do it all before you can do nothing. You don’t need to earn your peace.You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to stop. You are allowed to be.So this summer, I hope you’ll make space. Not because it’s productive. Not because you’re preparing for something big. But because your soul is worthy of quiet. Of stillness. Of enoughness that isn’t measured in checklists.Here’s to naps in the sun. To unfinished to-do lists. To slow dinners and long conversations. To choosing less, and finding so much more. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit theslowlivingcollective.substack.com/subscribe

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• I have Summer Podcast news!

  There’s a particular kind of magic that settles over the world this time of year. Maybe you’ve felt it too, that gentle call to exhale, to let things soften a little. To stop chasing the next thing and instead linger in the moment, barefoot in the garden with dirt under your nails and absolutely no idea where your phone is (and honestly, not caring either).Summer has its own rhythm. She doesn’t rush. She unfurls. She shows up unapologetically, sun-kissed, slightly overgrown, humming with bees and possibility. And every year, I find myself needing to answer her invitation again. To slow down. To live with less noise. To breathe more deeply.And if I’m honest, this year more than ever, I need that exhale.Walking the Walk (Even When It Feels Uncomfortable)I talk a lot on the podcast, here on Substack, on Instagram, about slow living, simple living, seasonal living. I share practical ways to strip back the chaos, to live more intentionally, to reconnect with rhythms that feel more human and less machine.But here's the thing: sharing about slow living is not the same as actually living it.I’ve had to sit with that recently. Because while I believe deeply in everything I write and teach and podcast about… I can also be incredibly good at staying busy in service of slowness. Isn’t that wild? I can fill my calendar with things that all “support” my values and still end up frazzled, overstretched, and a little bit disconnected from the very life I’m advocating for.So this summer, I’m choosing to walk the walk. For real. Which means creating more space in my schedule and energy. Saying no, kindly but firmly. Letting some things rest. Including, most notably: the podcast.🎙️ A Gentle Shift: What’s Happening With the PodcastStarting this month, The Slow Living Collective Podcast will be moving to an every-other-week rhythm for summer. No big drama. No huge announcement. Just a quiet recalibration to match the season.This isn’t about burnout. It’s not about stepping away.It’s about alignment.It’s about recognising that slow living isn’t a marketing message. It’s a lived experience and one I want to fully step into over these next few months. The podcast is still a core part of my work, and I’ll continue showing up there with love and thoughtfulness. But with more space. More intention. More… summer.Think of it like this: the podcast is taking a long, luxurious exhale just like the rest of me.What This Actually Means (And What It Doesn’t)It doesn’t mean I’m disappearing.It doesn’t mean the podcast is any less valuable to me or to you.It doesn’t mean you’ll stop getting thoughtful, heartfelt, seasonal content.It does mean that I’m choosing to let things breathe.It does mean that I’m putting my values into practice, even when it’s a bit uncomfortable.It does mean that I’m honouring this season, both literally and metaphorically, and giving myself space to feel it fully.And maybe, it’s an invitation for you too.Slowing Down With MeI think so many of us are tired of being told to go faster. To do more. To produce, perform, and push through no matter the cost. But the cost is real, isn’t it? Exhaustion. Disconnection. That foggy, always on feeling that leaves us wondering when life will actually feel like ours again.Slowness is not the enemy of success.It’s the soil from which meaningful, sustainable, joy filled lives grow.So this summer, I’m giving myself permission to rest more. To be outside more. To put my feet in the grass and my face in the sun. To write when inspiration strikes, not because there’s a deadline looming. To read books that aren’t “productive.” To eat tomatoes warm from the vine on my balcony. To notice. To live.Maybe you’re craving that too.So here’s your permission, if you need one.To listen to fewer things.To unsubscribe from urgency.To let some things be undone.To say, “That can wait.”Because here’s the truth: the world will keep spinning whether you respond to that email or not. And in the meantime? There’s a whole summer waiting for you. Sunlight through trees. Sand between your toes. Cold drinks, warm friends, long dinners that stretch lazily into the evening. A slower, simpler, softer version of life that’s not just possible but available, right now, if we let it be.What You Can Expect (And a Few Teasers)On the podcast: A new episode every other week, filled with the same thoughtful, grounded reflections you’ve come to expectvjust delivered at a slower, more nourishing pace. I’m actually excited to go deeper, not wider, with the stories I share.Here on Substack: I’ll still be writing regularly. Some longer essays, some short seasonal notes, and maybe the occasional behind-the-scenes of what slow living actually looks like with a home-educating household and a second-floor balcony garden.And behind the scenes? I’m dreaming into future offerings that support slow, small-space living, slow business, and the ongoing unraveling of hustle culture.But for now… I’m sinking into the slowness.And I hope you will too.P.S. If you’ve been feeling the itch to slow down but needed someone to go first, consider this your sign. I’m with you. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit theslowlivingcollective.substack.com/subscribe

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• From a simple balcony to an urban homestead

  When I look around online all I ever see is the traditional depiction of a homestead. People living in the countryside, surrounded by fields, with their own land, maybe some chickens and ample space to grow and live.But let’s be honest, that isn’t the reality for most of us, and the thing is I used to think that was my dream too. Until I actually refocused my vision and focused on where I am at right now. It was then that I realised I have everything I want, that the other influences weren’t actually what I was desiring, and I found so much love and joy in what I already have.When I scroll through my feed or browse the internet, it feels like everywhere I look, I see the same picture-perfect vision of homesteading: people living in the countryside, surrounded by acres of land, fields stretching out as far as the eye can see, chickens clucking happily in the yard, and rows upon rows of produce growing in neat little garden beds. The dream is often painted in soft, idyllic tones, filled with the promise of self-sufficiency, rustic charm, and an idyllic, peaceful life.For a long time, I thought that was my dream too. I imagined the quiet mornings on the porch, the scent of fresh bread, the satisfaction of growing everything I need, and a life deeply rooted in nature. It felt right, like the life I was supposed to live.But here’s the thing: that dream wasn’t my dream at all.Let me explain.The Reality of "Homesteading"I’ve spent a lot of time romanticising the life of a traditional homesteader, imagining myself surrounded by wide open spaces. But in reality, I live in a small, 650 sq. ft. home in a city, with limited space. I don’t have acres of land to grow fruit and veggies. And you know what? I’m okay with that. Actually, more than okay,I’m thriving.You see, there’s something about being constantly exposed to these “ideal” depictions that makes you think they’re the only way. You start believing that unless you have a sprawling farm, you’re somehow missing out, that your life isn’t complete. But what I realised is that the traditional homesteading life isn’t the only path to living simply and intentionally.Refocusing My VisionI had to take a step back. I stopped comparing myself to the “ideal homesteading” narrative and took a good hard look at my own life. And when I did, I saw something different: I have everything I need right where I am.It wasn’t the land or the chickens that I was truly longing (definitely not the chickens, they definitely aren’t for me) for. It was the connection to nature, the rhythm of the seasons, and the joy of slowing down and living intentionally. I wanted a life that was simple, but I realised that simple doesn't have to mean “country living” or a traditional homestead.A Radical Realisation: I Didn’t Want Land (or Chickens)And here’s the part that might raise a few eyebrows in the homesteading world: I didn't want land. I didn’t want a huge garden to tend to, and I definitely didn’t want chickens.Yes, I know. Radical, right? In a world where homesteading is often synonymous with raising animals and owning large property, saying that you don’t want these things can feel like an unpopular opinion. But the truth is, I’ve found that you can live a homesteading inspired life, rooted in simplicity, even if your reality doesn’t match the traditional vision.Finding Joy in What I HaveLiving in a small space, with a modest balcony garden, and a focus on creating a slower, more intentional life has brought me so much joy. I still have my own little corner to grow herbs and vegetables, I make things from scratch, and I’ve learned to embrace the natural rhythms of the seasons, even within my limited space. This is the homesteading lifestyle I’ve come to love: one that’s flexible and real, where it’s not about achieving some perfect image, but about finding joy in the here and now.In truth, I’ve found that the slow, simple, and seasonal life is much more about the mindset and choices we make than the property we own or the animals we raise. It’s about prioritising what matters to us, wherever we are. It’s about living in alignment with nature, rather than striving to match an ideal.Embracing the JourneySo, here I am, living a life that’s far from the traditional homesteading fantasy, and I’m grateful. I’ve learned that the dream doesn’t have to be the same for everyone. We can all create our own versions of what a slow, simple life looks like — no matter how big or small our space is.If you find yourself feeling like you don’t fit the “traditional” homesteading mould, I want to encourage you: You don’t have to. There’s beauty in whatever you’re doing right now, and it’s okay to let go of someone else’s idea of the perfect life. You can create your own, and it will be just as fulfilling. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit theslowlivingcollective.substack.com/subscribe

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• I used to be addicted to productivity - here is what changed...

  If you had asked me a few years ago what my secret to success was, I’d have told you, hands down, that it was productivity. I was obsessed. I mean, who wasn’t? The hustle culture was in full swing, and I bought into it whole heartedly. If I wasn’t ticking things off my to do list, I felt like I wasn’t doing enough, like I wasn’t good enough. Every moment of my day was crammed with tasks, plans, and deadlines. My life was a race, and I was determined to keep running.But here’s the thing: I wasn’t winning the race. In fact, I was burning out. And I was missing out on something I didn’t even realise I had lost – peace.Let’s slow down and journey together through the seasons with simplicity and intention. Subscribe to receive simple musings directly in your inbox. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit theslowlivingcollective.substack.com/subscribe

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• The modern disconnection from the seasons (and how to find your way back)

  In today’s fast-paced world, it’s easy to feel disconnected from the natural rhythms that have guided humanity for centuries. With artificial lighting, technology, and a never-ending stream of tasks, we’ve lost touch with the cycles of nature, the changing seasons, the ebb and flow of life that comes with each shift in the weather.Join me for Show Notes & more:Join me on SubstackJoin me on Instagram This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit theslowlivingcollective.substack.com/subscribe

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