Not Everything Worthwhile Happens in an Instant
Fast.
It is the heartbeat of our times, the pulse we are told to keep up with or risk being left behind. Fast internet, fast fashion, fast food, fast results. We treat speed as proof of value: quicker equals better. As if the worth of a thing, or a person, could be measured only in minutes.
In many traditions though, slowness is not a flaw, it is the point. Cooking a meal from scratch, weaving or crafting by hand, sitting in meditation, tending to the long work of healing. These practices remind us that depth, nourishment, and beauty often emerge only when we allow time to do its work.
But speed has its shadows. And it almost always benefits someone or something other than you.
Speed in Culture
The same obsession shows up everywhere. @thespeechprof points out that our sports system, for instance, was designed by men, for men, to highlight the strengths men typically excel at: speed, raw power, height, hurling things far, flexing upper-body strength. Then, surprise, men look like the pinnacle of achievement. But running fast does not make you kinder, wiser, or more worthy of respect. It just makes you fast. Athletic skill can be celebrated, yes, but it is not a moral compass. Fast here is patriarchy, dressed up in jerseys.
And of course, speed is linked with competition. Even our relaxation has become competitive: yoga in thirty seconds or less, anyone?
And the same goes for sex. Somewhere along the line, speed became the measure of success there too. Conquest counted in numbers, encounters reduced to performance, climax treated like a finish line. Fast does not mean fulfilled. It does not mean connected. It does not mean tender, safe, or ecstatic. Often it means the opposite: a missed opportunity to savor, to explore, to awaken the senses slowly, deliberately, in layers. Just as in life, in love, and in the body, slowness is where the richness lives. Fast here is the male way to do things, not the feminine one.
Speed in Healing
As for fast-track healing, so many of us fall for that illusion. We want the shortcut, the magic pill, the three easy steps. So we skip the meditation, skip the therapy, skip the rehab, skip the messy inner work, and leap straight into selling our "healing method." Spoiler: the body usually laughs. And it is not a kind laugh, it is the laugh of wisdom that knows better. When we skip the slow parts, we do not bypass them, we just delay them. The grief waits. The trauma waits. The exhaustion waits. And eventually, we end up circling back, limping and humbled, forced to face the very path we were so desperate to avoid.
The body has its own time, and healing does not happen on a stopwatch. It happens in spirals, in seasons, in the quiet patience of the body doing its slow, miraculous repair. If we try to rush it, we suffer. Not because we failed, but because healing has its own pace, and it will not be bullied into speed.
Speed in Love
One of the biggest red flags in a new relationship is speed, how quickly things move. If someone rushes into commitment, says “I love you” within weeks, or pushes to move in before you have even navigated a grocery run together, it is a warning sign for possible abuse. Whether you are sixteen or sixty, too much speed clouds judgment. It tricks the brain, entangles emotions, and keeps you from truly seeing the other person. Slowing down is not prudish, it is wise. It creates space for clarity, safety, and real intimacy. As Rie Pearson says, "slow it down."
Speed in the Psyche
Psychology notices it too. In Transactional Analysis, one of the five common injunctions we internalize as children is “Hurry up.” That tiny voice nags in our bones: move faster, decide faster, produce faster, or else you are not good enough. It pushes us into choices made without reflection, without grounding. In that rush, we miss the subtle signals, the intuition, the whispers of the body, that might have saved us heartache or harm.
The Dangers of Speed
Speed feels seductive, but it comes with costs:
Speed numbs the senses. Eat too quickly and you miss the taste. Rush through lovemaking and you bypass intimacy. Run through life and you miss the poetry hiding in ordinary moments.
Speed silences intuition. When everything is urgent, there is no room to pause and ask, "Is this right for me?"
Speed breeds mistakes. Fast decisions can be useful in a crisis, but most of life is not an emergency.
Fast rarely equals good. Rushing through healing, love, or life often leaves things half-baked, sloppy, or missing the magic entirely. Think of it like trying to make a soufflé in a microwave. Sure, it might rise a little, but the flavor, the texture, the joy of the process, all vanish. Take your time, savor each step, and watch how much more deliciously life unfolds.
Speed feeds exhaustion. We sprint from task to task, but the finish line keeps moving. No wonder we collapse, burned out and brittle.
Unchecked speed is danger. It keeps us from thinking, from feeling, from choosing with intention.
The Sacred Pace of the Goddess
The feminine, embodied path knows another rhythm. Hestia tends her hearth quietly. Demeter waits through winter’s long silence before spring stirs again. Persephone descends slowly into the underworld and rises just as slowly, marking seasons, not seconds. Their wisdom teaches us that cycles take time, and that nothing worthwhile is built in a rush.
Slowness is sensual. It is the lingering taste of chocolate melting on the tongue, the feel of bare feet pressing into cool grass, the rise and fall of breath in a chest that is not in a hurry. It is listening, really listening, to someone you love. It is giving yourself permission to savor, to stretch, to rest, as invited by Aphrodite.
Rebellion Through Slowing Down
We have been taught that fast equals good, efficient, worthy. But slowing down is radical. It is a rebellion against systems that want us depleted, distracted, and disconnected. When you pause, you reclaim your power. When you linger, you create space for pleasure, wisdom, and real connection.
So here is your invitation: slow down. Rest. Take your time. Breathe. Taste. Feel. Give yourself permission to not be efficient all the time. In a world worshipping speed, slowness is not laziness, it is liberation.
The Joys of Balance
Speed is not the enemy. Sometimes it is a gift: that jolt of inspiration that makes your fingers fly over the page, the gasp of laughter that leaves your cheeks sore, the sprint that makes your heart feel like it might burst out of your chest. Fast can be fun, fast can be fierce, fast can be exactly what the moment calls for.
But slowness? Oh, slowness is sacred. It is the first bite of a perfectly ripe peach, the stretch of your toes in the sand, the hands that linger over clay, paint, or fabric, the body that sighs in relief when you finally sit and just breathe. Healing, love, pleasure, creativity: these things have their own clocks, their own rhythms. You cannot rush a season, you cannot speed up a heart, you cannot fast-forward to wisdom.
The real magic happens when we let speed and slowness share the floor. Sometimes we dance like the world is on fire, sometimes we sway like the wind in the trees. True mastery is knowing which beat to follow and giving yourself permission to linger when you need to.
Remember: we eat lunch in five minutes, but the olive tree takes fifty years to fruit.
Invitation
Voilà. I believe that is all for today. I would be so happy to hear from you. If this spoke to your heart, I would love for you to share it with a sister, a friend, a fellow Goddess on the path. I send, as always, love, light, and gratitude.
Isaya
If you are ready to play with slowness, I invite you to join me for Into the Stillness: A Midwinter Dreaming. Together, we will drift into the kind of rest that nourishes every layer of you, awaken your senses in ways you did not even know you were craving, and give yourself permission to just be. Think of it as a retreat for your body, your heart, and your wild, creative spirit, all in one delicious, dreamy pause.
Step out of the rush. Step into the magic of stillness. Your soul has been waiting.
Reserve your dreamy midwinter escape here →https://isayabelle.com/into-the-stillness-a-midwinter-dreaming
