Islands of Slow

swimming outside in winter + finding slowness where we can

Welcome to Slow Folk - a community for gentle hearts and rebellious creatives, thirsty for a slower life in a world obsessed with speed.

Welcome to the Unbusy Revolution.

It’s been an unusually sunny November here in the Fraser Valley.

Usually, November means rain. Not just rain but rain. Proper, hard, no-point-in bothering-with-an-umbrella-because-it’s-falling-sideways-and-won’t-stop-for-29-days kinda rain.

(If you know, you know.)

But not today.

Today it is clear and cold and frosty, the sky an impossible blue against the shocking ocher of the few remaining leaves.

The mist rose from the warm water of the outdoor pool, obscuring the view of the waterslides and softening the sounds of the other swimmers. It diffused the harsh morning sun into a warm, enveloping glow, dancing across the bottom of the pool.

I felt wrapped in a solitary, magical cocoon.

This, for me, is a sacred space.

One of quiet and community. An act of reverence and gratitude for my physical being; a commitment to myself that I have kept, nearly daily, for almost a year now.

Most days I come here to breathe intentionally, to learn to do something I couldn’t do before.

Today, instead of my usual practice, I surrendered to the moment. Swam gently through the mist, relished in both the warmth of the water and the pain of my feet as circulation slowly returned to my frozen toes.

Floated lazily on my back, showed my pale skin to that rare and magical winter sun, closed my eyes, listened to my heartbeat and the distant rhythm of Harvest Moon drifting down from the speakers.

When I finally pulled myself out, I stretched out in the sauna, closed my eyes, breathed. Emerged, steaming, into the still-cold morning. Once again allowed the sun to kiss my skin.

What a gift.

It made me wonder about how we can mindfully invite more slow moments like these into our everyday lives.

I have intentionally structured my life and my business during this season to accommodate an hour or so a day, 5 days a week, at the community centre.

But there were plenty of seasons of my life, especially in the earlier days of motherhood, where this type of commitment simply was not possible. (Making it all the sweeter now.)

I’m acutely aware that this isn’t feasible for many of us.

So, acknowledging that truth, how can we create our own tiny Islands of Slow within the rushing river of the Relentless Pursuit of More?

The first step is to ask more beautiful questions. Questions like -

What if Slowness doesn’t need to be a grand gesture?

What if our personal Island of Slow doesn’t need to be indulging in Slow Travel or committing an hour a day to a Slow pursuit?

What if it simply means lingering over our babes for an extra moment in the morning as they wake? To drink in the scent of their skin, feel their warm breath on our cheek?

Or taking just a moment to sit down with a hot cup of something on the stoop while our kids play or between conference calls? To allow the sun to soak into our skin, to take a deep, intentional breath, to ground ourselves, even for a moment?

What if it means simply putting our phone away and sitting down at the table to share a meal, even if it is short, even if it’s not dinner, but a quick coffee and bite before work and school?

What if it means a fluffy vase of peonies on the table, for no other reason than sheer, unadulterated joy?

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Here’s the thing. Slowness, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, begets more Slowness.

You don’t have to blow up your whole life in order to embrace Slow Living.

Sure, I dove into Slow Living as a result of a complete and absolutely spectacular breakdown. But that doesn’t mean you have to.

• You don’t have to quit your job.

• You don’t have to move to the country.

• You don’t have to rearrange your entire life in order to start to slow down.

You simply have to decide to be open to the possibility of a different way of being in the world, one that runs contrary to hustle culture, the grind, the rat-race, the relentless pursuit of more.

Each-by-each and one-by-one, those tiny Islands of Slow will begin to coalesce.

One day you will look up and realize that your entire life has quietly transformed, without straining or striving or really much effort at all.

And maybe, you too, will find you suddenly do have time to stretch out in the warm water of a winter swim and let that rare November sun soak your skin.

Are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life? - Mary Oliver

Slow in Seven is a seven day, gently guided email workshop.

Not (another) course you'll never finish. Just seven simple days of prompts and reflections. 

Slow in Seven is rooted in my over 10 years experience building a slower life in a world obsessed with speed. 

(BTW - we’ll be talking Slow Living for the REAL world. You know, the one with bills, mad dashes to soccer practices and the never-ending pile of laundry.)

You deserve to live a life of peace, purpose and presence. Are you ready to claim it?

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Stacey Langford is a writer, renegade farmer and slow business mentor living and working in Canada’s Fraser Valley. In 2010 Stacey ditched her cubicle in the city to turn her attention homeward, farm and help others craft a simple life, from scratch.

Are you ready to build a life - and a living - you actually love?

I help rebellious solopreneurs and creatives build businesses rooted in Slow Values. If you’re ready to step into your own Slow Life and finally claim your calling, let’s chat!