Picture it now. You see the person behind you riding your ass in your rear-view mirror. They look like they’re having a tough day. You send them compassion as they speed past you, knowing full well that you’ll more than likely see them right next to you at the next stoplight.
Has that ever happened to you? You’re just minding your own business, someone speeds by, then a few minutes later, you catch them at the next stoplight. Do you think they actually make it to their destination faster than you? I’m not so sure. Either way, I know I’m a hell of a lot less stressed when I arrive wherever I’m going.
Being in a rush is stressful, it just is. I don’t think there’s any getting around it. But why are we even in such a rush in the first place?
Maybe it’s not actually about how fast we get somewhere—but how we feel when we get there.
The moment I started driving in the slow lane on purpose, something shifted. At first, it felt wildly uncomfortable. Like I was doing something wrong. My chest would tighten when someone whipped around me. I’d feel that familiar flush of pressure creep in. But the more I practiced staying in my lane—literally and metaphorically—the more ease I started to feel in my body. That edge softened.
Now, I use the drive to check in with myself. I breathe deeper. I notice the sky. I admire the way the sun spills through the trees. My nervous system has never felt more supported by something so simple.
Driving slower became a sort of moving meditation. A portal into presence.
And here’s the thing: we don’t realize how much we mirror the world around us. If everyone else is in a hurry, we start to believe we should be too. But what if your slow pace is exactly what someone else needs to see? What if you become the gentle interruption in someone else’s high-speed day?
It doesn’t just end at the pavement—you can carry this slower mentality with you all day long. It could be in the way you do your dishes after dinner tonight, letting the warm water run over your hands as you take a breath and feel your feet on the floor. Maybe it’s folding the laundry without rushing to get to the next thing. Or sipping your morning tea without scrolling your phone. These moments are small, but they shape the way we feel in our lives.
Slow isn’t lazy. Slow is intentional. It’s sacred. It’s how we come back to ourselves in a world that constantly asks us to speed up.
So maybe today, you start in the slow lane. And maybe tomorrow, you find that slowness has followed you home—in the best, softest way possible.
all my love,
Kaitlyn
