Why Is Slow Living So Hard To Write About?

It’s been quite a while since I’ve written anything lifestyle-y here (and completely ignoring my own advice about balancing content in the process). Over the last few months I’ve found it really hard to come up with ideas for writing about slow living. When I’m talking about marketing I’ve got it down; I know exactly what I want to say, what people want to hear and how I can provide value.

But with slow living, I’m struggling to find that value. Perhaps it is this preoccupation with value that is making me get in my own way. When I very first started Simple & Season, value was a founding principle. I’d dabbled in blogging before, but found myself writing things that bored me, let alone a potential reader. So when I started this blog, the rule was that everything I published had to be something I wanted to read myself. Which is why I really struggle to find lifestyle ideas that match up with my business content.

Maybe I need to alter my definition of value when it comes to the simple living stuff. I’ve fallen into a mode of thinking that value means the reader will have actionable takeaways to work on from every post. But is it not just as valuable for them to have an escapist, inspiring read? Or to introduce them to a brand or person that will improve their lives? If I broaden the meaning of value, then I might just unleash some creativity.At the root of this uncertainty though, I realise, is a lack of confidence. Or, perhaps more truthfully, feeling like fraud. Because I have no expertise in this.

By expertise I mean experience, rather than qualifications and courses. The reality of my life doesn’t match the expectations I have of it in terms of its slowness and simplicity. I don’t have a yoga practice, I don’t often cook or bake, I have no hobbies or crafts that I do, I don’t meditate. I have fallen down the rabbit hole of being a business bore, where all I do, think and talk about is my business and my client’s businesses, to the exclusion of all else. I have the inclination to do those other things, but not quite enough to actually, well, do them. And every night the sofa, blankets, snacks and TV feels so easy and comfortable.

So who am I to tell you not to do that? Who am I to say ‘this is how you live simply’ when I don’t feel like I’m doing that either? I know that there is value in the vulnerability of not having it all sussed, and maybe I just need to be more open to that. As a lifelong perfectionist who couldn’t bear being wrong, it’s difficult for me not to be the one with all the answers, not to be the expert for you to turn to.

Above and beyond my personal hang ups, there is one more universal one that’s been holding me back. Writing about slow living is hard because it feels like it needs to be more – more ground-breaking, more interesting, more something. But that’s just it – slow living isn’t more. It’s less.It’s less busyness, less stuff, less consumption. It’s white space, intentionality and presence in your own life. It’s taking the time to smell the new flowers and watch the shadows dance across the path. All those other things, the yoga, the knitting the meditation are conduits to slow living, ways into the mindset. If, like me, you already leave your phone at home on your morning walk and have tracked the leaves emerging on every tree, then maybe, just maybe, we’re already there...

Even when you have the intention to live slower, it seems that you can still take on society’s more, more, more mindset. That feeling that there must be something more you can be doing, or the feeling of lack around not having that ideal, expectation-meeting slow life. And while I am a wholehearted believer in always moving and developing forwards, perhaps a part of slow living should be noticing just how much you’re already doing.

Pin for later:

SaveSave