The Art of Slow Living: Moments over Miles

In a world obsessed with pace, I have learned that depth matters more than distance. Life is not measured by how fast you move but by how fully you experience each moment. It's a sentiment that echoes the wisdom of poet Mary Oliver, who wrote, "For how many years did I wander slowly through the forest. What wonder and glory I would have missed had I ever been in a hurry!"

We've all been caught in the trap: rushing between airports, cramming every "must-see" attraction into an impossibly tight itinerary, collecting passport stamps like trophies. But what if we've been measuring travel all wrong? What if the real journey isn't about the number of countries we can claim to have visited, but about how deeply we allow ourselves to connect with each place?

To travel slowly is not to see less. It's to see more clearly. It's the difference between photographing a sunset and actually watching it unfold. Between ordering the tourist menu and asking your server what their grandmother would cook. Between checking a museum off your list and sitting with a single painting until it reveals something new.

This intentional approach extends beyond our vacations. Living with intention doesn't mean moving through life in slow motion. It means recognizing that whether we're traveling or simply moving through our daily routines, the real adventure lies not in how fast we move, but in how present we are in every conversation, every meal, every sunrise, and every sunset. It’s about staying curious and finding the wonder that you would have missed had you been in a hurry.

The Japanese have a word for this: Yutori (ゆとり), meaning "room" or "margin." It's about creating space in your life to slow down and appreciate the present moment, easing through life without rushing while truly noticing the world around you.

Mary Oliver spent years wandering slowly through forests, and in that unhurried observation, she found the raw material for a lifetime of poetry. What wonder and awe might we discover if we gave ourselves permission to slow down? What stories, connections, and moments of unexpected beauty are we racing past in our hurry to get somewhere else?

So instead of planning every hour, plan to be surprised. Leave space for serendipity. Walk through life with intention. Because in the end, we don't remember the places we rushed through. We remember the moments and emotions of a place. We remember when we chose depth over distance, presence over pace. We remember when we collected not just miles, but the kinds of moments that change us.