Dear friend, have you ever been surprised by new insights you’ve received—about yourself or a problem you’ve been pondering—during a relaxing vacation? Being in a different place from our everyday environment can clear the clutter from our minds as we encounter new sights, sounds, smells, and other sensations that jolt us out of autopilot. However, it’s not so much a change of place, but rather a change of pace that matters. Have you ever been disappointed by a vacation that didn’t give you the rest and rejuvenation you hoped for because you couldn’t get away from (or couldn’t resist) your work?
Slowing down the pace in our everyday lives—whether for a week, a day, or even just one hour at a time—can also give us many benefits similar to those we receive from a restorative vacation. And some, if not all, of these benefits can reveal illuminating insights about ourselves, our greatest challenges, and our deepest desires.
In my previous post, The Gifts of Slowing Down, I share five gifts I’ve discovered when I slow down long enough to pay attention. Now I’ll share five more gifts I have encountered in the practice of slowing down. Once again, they all start with the letter C, for reasons known only to my intuition. 🙃
Creativity
When do you feel the most creative? If your experience is anything like mine, I’m guessing it’s hard to feel creative when your calendar is completely booked, your to-do list can wrap itself around the Earth’s circumference, and your environment is as chaotic as an international airport at peak travel times.
Making some time in the day to let my mind wander—daydream about a new idea, Google a burning question of little apparent consequence (do bees have knees?), listen to birdsong outside my window—gives me a chance to tap into creativity. When my mind feels less cluttered, and I’m not in a hurry, I feel like I have more space to explore different possibilities, start a new project, or resume a project I’ve been stuck on. As I pay more attention to the ebb and flow of my creativity, I’m realizing it’s tied closely to how much room I give my curiosity (another gift of slowing down that I mention in my previous post).
What if you don’t consider yourself a creative person? Well, I’d like to propose that as a human, you are inherently creative! If you think you’ve never done anything creative, have you ever solved a problem with an unusual solution? Have you ever figured out to stretch a tight budget? Have you ever thought of something loving to say in a difficult moment when you wanted to comfort a friend? These are all examples of human creativity, and they’re all things we likely find easier to do when we make time to slow down and allow our minds to flourish in an unhurried setting.
Confidence
Full disclosure: I often don’t consider myself a confident person. But if I ask myself when I feel the most confident, it usually coincides with whenever I feel the most relaxed. Rarely do I tap into confidence without allowing myself to adopt a slower pace.
For example, rushing through a task greatly increases my chances of making mistakes, which then tends to diminish my confidence. The very act of slowing down helps me tackle a challenging task with deeper concentration, giving me a better chance of completing it to satisfaction and building confidence in my ability to do it again in the future.
Taking time to think about what I’m going to say before a difficult phone call I’m anticipating—rather than immediately dialing the number—helps me enter the conversation with more confidence that I will do my best to be clear, concise, and respectful of the other person (while also accepting that I can’t control the outcome as long as another person is involved).
Slowing down also gives me greater confidence in my ability to make important decisions. If I allow myself enough time to consider all the options and weigh each of them carefully, I am less likely to regret choosing in haste, and more likely to feel good about my decision.
Courage
A close cousin to confidence, courage is another gift I don’t always feel I can easily tap into. I’ve come to realize, though, that courage is not something I always have, but rather a quality I must call upon again and again in my hour of need.
However, the practice of slowing down reminds me that courage is more accessible than I think. If I allow myself even just a few moments to take a deep breath and exhale slowly, this prepares me to face whatever challenge I’m walking into with a bit more poise, a bit more acceptance, a bit more resolve to do whatever I must to reach the other side. I often have to remind myself that my fears have a tendency to shrink my perception of available resources, including time. But if I resist the urge to take immediate fight or flight action, I can summon just enough courage to help me do the hard thing.
Of course, sometimes we encounter unexpected trials that require us to fight or flee in the moment, and we don’t have the luxury of slowing down. In circumstances like these, I think we have to remind ourselves we’ve done brave things before, and we can trust ourselves to be brave right now. This is why, though, I believe it’s important to give ourselves the space to slow down whenever we can afford it, so that when we’re in really tight situations, we can draw upon the courage we’ve been gradually building like a muscle.
Compassion
It’s harder for me to give compassion—to others or myself—when I feel harried and pressed for time. If I’m running late for an appointment, or I’m stuck in an unforeseen traffic jam, I don’t have as much patience for the driver in front of me who’s poking along well below the speed limit. When I feel like the weight of my own life is bearing down hard on me, it’s difficult to find space in my burdened mind for the struggles of others. Can you relate?
Similarly to crises of courage, I acknowledge there are urgent crises in which we are called to act with as much compassion as we can muster, even if we don’t feel very compassionate in the moment. Again, this is why I believe it’s important for us to slow down whenever we can afford the time, so we can practice growing our compassion with the little things. The way you do anything is the way you do everything, so the saying goes, and while I am careful about relying too heavily on blanket aphorisms, I think there is some truth to this one.
When I pause my anxious thoughts just long enough to pay attention to the person ahead of me in the grocery checkout line, who seems to be taking forever to place all their items on the conveyor belt, I realize they have a crying child, or they’re helping a disabled family member—or perhaps I just remember they are human like me, and this is reason enough to be patient. It’s in small, seemingly mundane moments like these that the gift of compassion shows up, reminding me nothing is more important than honoring the dignity and preciousness of life itself.
Slowing down helps me show more compassion to myself, too. If I’m feeling tired or ill, it’s easier to forgive my limitations and mistakes when I accommodate for the extra time and tenderness my body needs. This self-compassion is such a merciful relief—like cool water running down a parched throat—that I wonder why I don’t give it to myself all the time.
Consciousness
If I asked a hundred people when they feel most conscious, most aware, I would probably get a hundred different answers. But I’m guessing these answers would have some common threads. Think about a memory in which you felt more alive—more aware of yourself and your surroundings—than you’d ever felt before. This could be a joyful memory or a stressful one, but you can recall many details about the experience with sharp clarity.
Since I mentioned travel earlier, I’ll share a memory of my first solo vacation several years ago. I went to New York for a long weekend to visit a friend who was living there at the time. Although I’d been to the Big Apple once on a family vacation, I felt like I was seeing the city for the first time because I’d never experienced it as an adult before. Riding the subway, walking on the High Line, crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, getting lost in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, admiring the statues in Central Park (both metal and living), watching the varied and interesting people coming and going around me—all of these novel experiences captured my fascination so completely that I couldn’t tell anyone which came first: slowing down long enough to pay attention or paying attention long enough to slow down. These two practices are not identical twins, but they are closely related. Engage in one practice, and you’ll almost certainly encounter the other.
We can also connect with a heightened consciousness when we practice slowing down and paying attention to the small wonders in our daily lives. Our hearts may not always race with excitement (nor would we want to remain in such a state continuously!), but if we make a regular effort to wake up to what’s unfolding all around us, we can regularly experience delight, fascination, or at least—on a difficult day—hard-won insight.

How about you?
Which of these gifts of slowing down resonates the most for you? Have you experienced other gifts from the practice of slowing down? Share a comment—I’d love to hear from you!
Well, this wraps up all the gifts of slowing down that I have encountered so far. I’m sure there are many more. (Though they may not all start with the letter C, haha!)
For now, may you encounter delight, fascination, and insight in your own practice of slowing down. 🐌