It won’t go as planned, but it may still be good.

This is this what winter taught me. I, as usual, had grand ambitions for how my writing and creativity would unfold at the start of this new year, but then we got a new president, the world turned upside down, and I had to recalibrate. My creative and emotional energy had to flow towards the crisis areas of my work, which meant I had to pull back on showing up in other places. But this isn’t a bad thing. It’s just a life thing. We roll with it.

I do hope you and your loves ones are faring well as we move through all sorts of strain, fear, and uncertainty. If there’s one lesson life teaches me again and again its that we are most powerful when we draw our energy into what we can influence and control, which is our choices, our attention span, and how we live out our values each and every day. It’s not easy work, but it is good and satisfying work, even as the world turns on its head.

For today, welcome to The Slow Down, an occasional column featuring tips, insights, and resources for making a slow, well-rooted life.

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the slow down tip

Contemplate the beautiful.

One of my favorite verses from the ancient Christian scriptures was written by St. Paul to a gathering of the faithful in a town called Philippi, which is now an archaeological site in modern day Greece. In this one line of his letter he says,

“Finally, dear siblings, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”1

He then goes on to say, “Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.”2

Last week, I shared a post about engaging the news without losing our souls. My point was that we must practice attending to our nervous systems as we engage with media because constant emotional and psychological dysregulation only leads to more chaos and disorientation. By learning how to slow down, how to breathe, how to ground our bodies in the present moment, we strengthen our ability to face the day’s challenges with wisdom, rootedness, and care.

Contemplating the beautiful, the lovely, the sacred, the true, and the good—as echoed in the ancient letter of St. Paul to a community he loved—is another way we modern day folks can support ourselves, and one another, in rooting our lives into that which makes for peace. Peace is hard to come by these days. Anxiety, urgency, and fear are our shared norm. But what if the Divine has another pathway for us? What if the Holy is inviting us into rest? What if, in fact, the God of peace desires to be with us in the chaos of our time?

I believe St. Paul’s words, though written centuries ago in a context very unlike our own, hold true meaning for those of us seeking to remain grounded and to keep our nervous systems regulated as we face the tumult bombarding our news feeds. By fixing the gaze of our souls on whatever is true, lovely, right, pure, admirable, excellent, praiseworthy, and beautiful, we are positioning our hearts to align with these healing and restorative virtues.

How do you do this? By taking note of the lovely and beautiful in your midst and expressing gratitude for it. By stepping outside and letting the excellent design of the natural world wash over you and reorient your senses. By offering appreciation when elected officials do something right or noble, even if they aren’t the team you voted for. By setting aside time each day to pray for your enemies and to bless those who curse you. By taking ownership of your own brokenness and imperfection, not to shame yourself, but to be reminded of our shared humanity as people out here in the world just trying to figure it out. These are all a few ways dwelling on the beautiful and aligning our hearts with virtues of healing and restoration, might make for peace in ourselves and in the world. Perhaps this contemplation and embodiment of the lovely, good, and true has been some part of God’s intention for humanity all along.

What might it look like for you to contemplate the beautiful today? Where have you recently encountered something excellent or praiseworthy?
Make space in your day to think on such things.

nature speaks

The dandelions are back. Winter’s cold seems to have come and gone, though we won’t be sure until April 15th, or that’s what the farmers say. A few days ago my husband Alex and I wandered through the part of our acre that we call the meadow. It was blanketed in soft yellow dandelion blossoms. Alex swears he can smell them. I believe him. The air does smell and feel like springtime.

Part of me is grieving. I’ve loved winter. It may very well be my favorite season of the year. While last winter dragged on forever, this year’s winter has felt much too short. What’s both wild and comforting about the seasons, however, is that they change whether we’re feeling into it or not. Whether we’re up for it, or not. Whether we are welcoming the change, or not. The earth reminds us that time turns onward and forward. Our only option is to receive and accept the gift of life, however it arrives.

Nature speaks:

How are you noticing the change in seasons? What does this shift evoke in you?

off the shelf

There are a couple books in my line-up right now, and I’m moving through them slowly:

Theology of the Womb: Knowing God Through the Body of a Woman by Christy Angelle Bauman which is about the ways we encounter God’s story through the anatomy of the woman’s body—breasts, vagina, ovaries and all.

The Gilded Ones by Namina Forna is a fiction coming-of-age story about a girl who learns that what makes her different is the very thing that makes her extraordinary.

worth lingering over

This post by on “11 Things to Stay Sane and Be Content in 2025.”

This podcast conversation about the ways desperation compels us to make decisions that are not in alignment with our values, and what we how we can approach life differently.

This and this jam by my beloved Maggie Rogers.

Catch you next time. Much love,

Bethaney

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Hello Dear Friends,

Is Autumn descending where you are? Have you seen the subtle shift in morning light as cool breezes dance across your cheeks? Have you felt the lightness in the air, reminding your soul that new days are ahead?

Have you paused to notice? I hope so. It’s beautiful.

With each turn of the wheel of the year, I’m reminded of how often change is upon us. Just as one season, one way of being, one set of habits or rituals are settled like clay under our feet, the calendar page flips ahead and a new season is at our doorstep. Change is here. I’m learning to welcome this, learning to trust that the advancing of time is in fact on my side, leading me into an impermanence that loosens my grip and reminds me to remain in a posture of letting go. Yes, there is a grief here, but I’ve found that grasping and clinging tightly to all I love has a strangling effect.

What might it look like to slow down, take a deep breath, drop your shoulders, unclench your fists, and open your hands—releasing what wants to go and welcoming whatever mysteries, challenges, and gifts are awaiting you?

These are the questions I’m holding as August comes to an end.

Welcome to the slow down, an occasional column featuring tips and insights for making a slow, well-rooted life. .

the slow down tip

Remember who you are. I recently took a trip to NYC with my sister. It was the first time she and I spent time together, just the two of us, in a couple of years. At the end of our day together, we moved through a bit of conflict and misunderstanding. She said something benign and I responded defensively. We’ve come a long way in our communication and were able to work through it with a surprising degree of self-awareness and care. What was most striking was how she subtly held up a mirror to me, exposing how I was living from scripts that were out of alignment with my values. It’s confronting when someone you love and trust holds up that mirror. It’s easier to deflect, defend, and deny, but she was right. In the hustle and busyness of summer, and in the pressure I was feeling to perform and avoid failure, I’d lost myself. This happens. We all lose sight of who we are from time to time. By talking it through with her, I realized that I’d been moving so fast and trying so hard to be perfect that I was no longer living in alignment with my values.

Speed, and the fear that often underlies our anxious striving, tend to distort our perspective. It’s like looking out the window while riding train, everything is moving by so fast that you can’t really make out any single part of it. It’s a blur. Life can be like this sometimes; it happens. There’s no shame in this. There is, however, an invitation: slow down and remember you are.

If you’d like to make this a practice, you can carve out some time and reflect on the questions below:

1. With summer coming to an end, what might it look like for me to slow down and come home to myself again?

2. What are the habits, places, or practices I’m being invited to let go of in this moment?

3. What values would I like to deepen my commitment to in the weeks and months ahead?

nature speaks

I’ve recently been companioned by a couple of black widow spiders. Strange, I know. It’s not quite October which is when one might make much of spiders, webs, and spooky things, but alas, the black widows are here. Generally speaking, I am pro-spider. Not in my house, but around my house. They cut down on other critters and so I count them as allies in keeping our home bug free. But black widows have a scary reputation so I’m never sure whether or not letting them live is the best idea.

There are two prominent black widows in my life. There’s one that lives somewhere around my front door and one that lives inside the package bin outside of our fence. I’ve only ever seen the front-door-guardian one time: it was late at night, around 1 AM, and it was raining. My dog was whining to go outside so I opened the front door to let him out and found the black widow masterfully and quickly spinning prey in her web. It was intimidating but incredible. I was terrified and captivated. She seemed completely unfazed by the rain, by the darkness, and by the human watching her process. It was other-worldly.

The package-bin black widow and I cross paths more often. Our sightings of one another are always brief as she runs to hide whenever the bin is opened. One day last week, while collecting the day’s deliveries, I noticed that she and I were not alone. There were four or five other tiny black widows—her offspring!—all making a life in the shadows. Admittedly, seeing all of them together stressed me out so I promptly called Alex and asked him to serve up an eviction notice to our tiny friends, but I digress…

Nature speaks: It is said that black widows represent protection, evolution, and feminine power. Yes, yes, and yes. But what I find most striking about these little companions, as “dangerous” as they may be, is that they do their best work in the dark, in the shadows, in the hidden places. While the world is asleep, they are weaving webs and making a life in the quiet, dead of night.

We often vilify the darkness because we fear it. But perhaps the black widows are teaching us that periods of darkness are not to be feared, but are to be received as invitations to transform. Perhaps, our very best work, also happens beyond the gaze of what others can see.

quotable

But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Mary Oliver, an excerpt from The Journey

off the shelf

I haven’t been reading much lately, but I’ve been doing lots of crafting and binging stationery content. It’s been delightful! Here’s the new, undated planner I’ve been working with and here is my favorite stationery YouTube channel.

worth lingering over

Song: Be Thou My Vision is one of my favorite hymns. This version is sung by the Irish folk singer Moya (Maire) Barren. It’s lovely - you can listen to Bi Thus a Mo Shúile here.

Podcast: I know that Jackie Hill Perry sparks strong feelings across the evangelical and ex-vangelical universe, so bear with me. 😅 This conversation with Dr. Sarita Lyons on With the Perry’s really blessed me so I thought I’d share it for any Black women who are navigating racial identity, faith and spirituality. It is full of wisdom and care!

In case you missed it

My last post, Resilient and fragile, all at once, is all about the slow and tender work of rebuilding trust.

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Welcome to the slow down, a column featuring tips and insights for making a slow, well-rooted life.

the slow down tip

Localize your love. I was talking to my therapist recently about how love isn’t a fuzzy feeling. Love is the choice we make to actively demonstrate care for ourselves and others. Love is patient, meaning that to love is to slow down and to extend grace. Love is kind, meaning that to love is to speak and act with concern for the other. Love keeps no record of wrongs, meaning that love is dedicated to a healing pathway of forgiveness and release. These are not fuzzy feelings. These are actions, powerful choices, and self-controlled decisions to weave connection and care in a painful world. Localizing our love is about drawing our energy into active care for ourselves, our bodies, our homes, our children, our parents, our friends, our neighborhoods, and more. Localizing our love is often the most difficult work any of us will ever do, and also, by God’s grace, the most rewarding.

nature speaks

The midsummer morning sun has been golden, a deep and nourishing yellow blanketing our little acre with warmth. One of my favorite things about being a human is our ability to really notice these subtle seasonal shifts, like a slightly different shade of sunshine. It’s been too hot outside for me to work at my picnic table, so I moved a desk into the living room. Sitting here, I’m able capture more of that warm morning glow through the window.

Nature speaks: Take a few moments to notice the shade of sunlight around you. What might you compare it to? A lemon? A sunflower? A Black-eyed Susan in full bloom? A jar of honey? Take note and give thanks. The ability to notice is surely one gift of being alive.

quotable

“Prayer is a meeting with the Eternal, in Whom nothing that passes in time is lost in oblivion. God is Personal, not abstract. Love remembers, and love forgives and even forgets. That is why only He can blot out sins—and when sins are ‘loosed in heaven’ it is an event of cosmic dimensions.”

- Sister Magdalen, Conversations with Children

off the shelf

This reading list from Lady Farmer is full of gems that I’ve added to my list. I’m sharing here in case you want to read them too!

The ALMANAC by Lady Farmer

A Reading List for Eco-Spirituality 🌿✨

Here are some books that have shaped the way we think about eco-spirituality and have greatly impacted our own journey. We reference many of them in this week’s podcast episode, where we talk about the term, and give an overview of some of the major themes that have come up in many of our conversations…

Read more

2 years ago · 7 likes · Mary & Emma Kingsley

worth lingering over

Woodlanders is an online video series that tells the stories of various people who care for the land and for the forests in beautiful, interesting, and diligent ways. Alex and I have watched most of these and the video on Willow Coffins is one we return to often in our conversations.

It’s strange to contemplate one’s own death, even though it’s the one part of being alive that is guaranteed. We will die. All of us. Something about seeing how these coffins are crafted has invited me to think more holistically about what it means to return to the dust from which we came.

in case you missed it

> last week’s the slow down is here.
> permission to do less is here.
> reflections on my journey into the Orthodox Church is here.

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To that end, I’ll be doing a Q+A special podcast later this month and would love to answer any questions you have about life, faith, work, etc. Submit your questions here or by clicking the button below!

Submit a Question - July Q+A

Welcome to the slow down, a column featuring tips and insights to create a slower, well-rooted life.

This week, like many of us, politics have been on my brain. I’ve been wondering, What is a slow, rooted approach to this election season? I don’t have it all figured out, but here are a few tips & insights that are holding me down as we move through these strange and confounding days.

the slow down tip

Stay present; stay soft.
Leading a slower, more contemplative life is about building our capacity to weather the storms of our days with more attentiveness and less anxiousness. It is the opposite of escapism and avoidance. It’s about being in touch with what’s happening within you in the present moment so that you can make decisions from a place of awareness and inner resilience. Staying present and staying soft is about being honest with our anger and our fear. It’s about being truthful about our frustrations and making space to lament all that is not right and well in the world. If time and resources are available to you, it’s also about raising your voice, calling representatives, talking to loved ones, joining local political campaigns and more. Each of our lives are different and our capacity varies, but staying present and staying soft is what it means to be human.

What does this look like for me right now? I’m following the news of whether or not Biden will step down very closely and I’m hoping he will. Yes, it will be messy but I think we’re up for it. I’m also ramping up my exercise and sleep routine to help me move through my anger and frustration in constructive ways. Lastly, after catching up on news and moving my body, I’ve been turning towards care for my home and my work. Creating a beautiful life each day holds me down when the world seems out of control. If you’ve got more questions about how I think about political things, you can submit those for this month’s Q+A.

nature speaks

The muscadine harvest is one of my highlights each summer. They typically ripen in mid-to-late August so we’re still about six weeks out. Yesterday while walking through one of my dad’s cattle fields, we came upon the muscadine vines. They are full of green, unripe fruit. I’ve never tried an unripe muscadine before so I had to pluck one to see what it was like.

If you’re unfamiliar, muscadines are wild grapes. The ones that grow near us are bright green as the emerge, but deepen into a rich, dark purple as they soften and ripen.

The green fruit I plucked was firm to the touch, but still fragrant. My dad and husband looked at me like I was ridiculous as I bit into the unripened grape just to see what it was like. Unsurprisingly, it was bright, sour, and very bitter. I spit it out and tossed it into the woods. I’m happy I tried it.

Nature speaks: This is a very silly story but the point it illustrates is clear. The best things in life are ready when they’re ready. You can’t rush it. To force the fruit to ripen would compromises its richness and its gifts. It’s much better to wait for harvest time.

quotable

“The marvelous world of thoughts, sensation, emotions, and inspiration, the spectacular world of creation around us, are all patterns of stunning weather on the holy mountain of God.

But we are not the weather. We are the mountain.

Weather is happening—delightful sunshine, dull sky, or destructive storm—this is undeniable. But if we think we are the weather happening on Mount Zion, then the fundamental trust of our union with God remains obscured and our sense of painful alienation heightened. When the mind is brought to stillness we see that we are the mountain and not the changing patters of weather appearing on the mountain.”

Martin Laird, Into the Silent Land, pp. 16

off the shelf

I haven’t done much reading over the past week so I don’t have a book recommendation to share, but earlier this year I wrote a syllabus for A More Beautiful Way which features the books I reference, think about, and revisit most often. Find my evergreen book recommendations here.

worth lingering over

Here are the links that have helped me make sense of this political mayhem we’re living through.

Beth and Sarah are my political therapists. Not literally, but kind of. Their reflections always help me clarify my own thinking. Their most recent episodes, America Lost the Debate and Presidential Immunity: The Hubris is Nuclear were tremendously helpful.

I also have been loving The Daily by the New York Times.

And then this post by Oh Happy Dani blessed and grounded me as I moved through complex emotions about the 4th of July holiday.

in case you missed it

> last week’s the slow down, check it out here
> this week’s essay, On being Christian again is available here
> the last time I wrote about muscadines featured some reflections on living with anxiety too. you can read about it here.

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Thank you to those of you who made space to respond to my reader survey. It’s helping me think through how to best serve you all as my reading community. It also helps me to experience this space as an exchange, a shared space. Writing and sharing words on the internet can sometimes feel like speaking into a void. Thank you for reminding me that this community of readers is very much present, very much engaged, and very much so meeting me on the other sides of our screens with connection, openness, and grace. I appreciate it more than you know.

If you haven’t had a chance to fill out the survey, you can still do so here. I’ll be aggregating the responses and sharing them with you all so that you also know who is here, reading and thinking and slowing down alongside you.

Now, on to the the slow down for this week.

the slow down tip

Rethink what it means to make a good impact.

For years, I believed the only types of good work worth doing were the types of efforts that could change an entire neighborhood, an entire city, and perhaps even the entire world. This big picture view of what’s possible is inspiring, compelling even. However, as my life started to slow down both by circumstance and by choice, I realized how much more manageable and satisfying it can be to draw one’s locus of impact into a much smaller realm. Maybe “good impact” is to heal and strengthen my one’s own body. Maybe “good impact” is to do relational repair work within one’s family of origin. Maybe “good impact” is to stop trying to be good at everything and to instead focus on becoming better at the few things God has given us to do. Rethinking impact doesn’t mean our dreams for social change and collective healing go away. Rethinking impact is about focusing our efforts, our energies, and our gifts where they have the most impact—right here in our daily lives—and to see where that steady, daily, faithful dedication leads us.

nature speaks

It’s been hot here in Georgia. Has it been hot where you live too? We have multiple little gardens around our acre: perennial flowers in the ground, peas and sweet potatoes growing as row crops, a couple of raised beds with tomatoes and arugula, collections of potted plants (mostly a variety of mints), and then there’s the general landscaping around our porch which also features some stunning perennial flower shrubs. This whole list is to say—we’ve got a lot growing things to keep alive during these dog days of summer.

As I was watering my flower garden a few days ago, trying to saturate the earth before the sun was too high in the sky, I found myself thinking about how sweet it is that rain clouds blanket the sky in shady cover before the rain pours. Of course, this is simply how rain works, rain falls from clouds. But have you ever considered how harmful it would be to growing things if rain fell while the hot sun was still high in the sky, without cloud cover? Obviously, this doesn’t happen, but if it did, all of the plants would scalded, burned, and would not survive. It is not good to water plants when the sun is highest in the sky. It’s best to water them just before the sun rises or just after it sets. Nourishment takes roots under the cover of the cloud’s shadow, or in the relative coolness of a setting sun. This is a grace, I think.

Nature speaks: Sometimes clouds are protective. Sometimes we need periods of shadows and storms to adequately receive the nourishment we need most.

quotable

Ring the bells that still can ring.
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack, a crack in everything.
That’s how the light gets in. - Leonard Cohen

off the shelf

I’ve been reading this edition of Magnolia Journal. I grabbed it at the grocery store on my way to the airport last week and was especially delighted to read all of the cherry recipes. Not all recipes are created equal and my experience is that Magnolia does recipes incredibly well, so if you’re looking for some stellar, summer, cherry-based recipes, I highly recommend.

What are you reading this summer?

worth lingering over

This hasn’t been a very internet-full week for me. I’m behind on all my podcasts and my Youtube watching has been low. I was able to catch a few minutes of last night’s presidential debate, but I wouldn’t necessarily call that something worth lingering over.

If you’re able, get outside today, even if it’s hot. Commune with the birds who keep nesting on your porch. Pray for rain. Galavant across fields. Walk your dog to the park. Take the kids to the forest and follow their curious lead. Let the humidity stick to your skin. Summer is perfect for going slow, definitely worth lingering over.

Take it easy, beloveds. Catch you here next week.

in case you missed it

Last week’s The Slow Down is here.
The Slow Down from two weeks ago is here.
Here is a post I wrote last year about summers being perfect for going slowly.

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Slowing down enough to know yourself, to make room for connection, and to encounter the holy in your everyday life. It can be done, of course, with practice and intention. But much of modern life isn’t set up for us to live this way. I’ve been writing about my quest for depth, slowness, and connection for a couple of years now. As life keeps moving, the world keeps changing, and as my faith keeps evolving, I thought it’d be fun to share some of the lessons I’ve learned along way.

Welcome to the slow down, a weekly-ish column sharing what I’ve learned about cultivating a slower-paced, well-rooted life.

In addition to sharing occasional essays here on A More Beautiful Way—as I’ve got a series on my conversion to Orthodox Christianity in the works—this column will feature short insights and gentle invitations to encourage your slow living, soul care journey.

Each week will feature a tip on slowing down, an insight gleaned from the natural world, a quote that I can’t get out of my head, a book I’m currently reading, and at least one link worth lingering over.

My hope is for this column to be a guide for the wandering and weary. It’s for folks who are doing their best to stay grounded and want a little inspiration for the journey. I will publish these on Fridays. Essays, when I write them, will still drop on Tuesdays. We’ll see how it goes. As always, I’m so glad you’re here and I look forward to seeing how this offering lands in the soil of your life.

the slow down tip

What’s today’s tip? Be honest. Honesty is a critical first step to creating a slower, well-rooted life. We have to be honest, mostly with ourselves, about what is and isn’t working in the way we’re currently doing things. This isn’t about rushing to fix anything or about chasing some standard of perfection. It’s about telling the truth so that we can make choices from a place anchored in reality instead of fantasy, illusion, or delusion. If you’re job is making you physically and mentally unwell, be honest about it. If your relationships are draining and painful, get honest. If you have addictive patterns or habits that are robbing your life from you, tell the truth. Ideally, to a trustworthy third party, but at least to yourself.

Honesty, even with yourself, is one of the bravest steps we can take towards creating a life of nourishment and healing.

nature speaks

We planted a pineapple sage bush last spring. Over the course of the spring and summer, it grew to be about 30 inches tall and more than 30 inches wide. Its delicate, bright red blossoms, reminiscent of honeysuckle blooms, painted the garden with richness and vibrancy. She was a stunning shrub and I loved her.

Every fall and winter, it’s a gamble to see what will survive. Unfortunately, my darling pineapple sage was a casualty of playing dogs who broke one of her main stems during their morning zoomies. By the time a cold snap came, she didn’t have the strength to make it. She was gone.

This spring, as I watched my flower garden come to life, I often looked over at where the pineapple sage once stood and lamented her absence. Until one day, Alex noticed a little sprig that looked eerily familiar to our pineapple sage. Surely enough, while I thought the shrub was gone forever, she’d actually scattered seeds in her death, leaving us not with one new shrub, but with eleven! We now have eleven pineapple sage bushes growing happily across the earth where their mother once stood.

Nature speaks: life is more resilient than we know.

quotable

“Mental health is a dedication to reality at all costs.” - M. Scott Peck

off the shelf

I’m currently reading The Life of the Virgin Mary, attributed to the 7th-century church Father St. Maximos the Confessor. She is known as the Theotokos, the Mother of God, in Orthodox holy tradition. She has been a loving, firm, and gentle guide to me as I’ve found my way in the faith. The fullness of her story is relatively new to me given my background in evangelical Protestantism. I have many more thoughts on this which I’ll share about in my series on my conversion, but for now, this is the book I’ve pulled off the shelf.

worth lingering over

Lore Wilbert shared this article,The Church Forests of Ethiopia, and I was brought to tears multiple times as I read. Maybe I’m tender because I see something of my own spiritual journey in the lives of these Orthodox priests. Maybe I’m tender because of how the faithful are stewarding some of the few remaining forests in Ethiopia. Maybe I’m tender because the church is so rarely known as a place of refuge, earth stewardship, and mystery. In any case, this a stunning story and it’s still stirring within me even now. I had to share it with you.

in case you missed it

If you’re thinking about how to stay rooted in the midst of violence and war, this post is for you
If you’re moving through the grief, I’ve written some poetry about those things
If AMBW was a college class and we had required reading, this would be the list

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Last week I kicked off this new column, so if you missed the context, you can check that out here. Otherwise, let’s dive in.

Share A More Beautiful Way

the slow down tip

What’s today’s tip? Rethink what it means to be productive. For the longest time, I measured productivity by my ability to achieve goals and check items off my to-do list. This perspective on productivity still has its place as I, like many of us, have a full time job, family, church and more which all require an ability to show up and do what I say I’m going to do. However, I’ve found there are windows of opportunity to move at a slower pace when we think of productivity less as a byproduct of what we can accomplish and more so as a natural consequence of being rooted in the right place with the nourishment we actually need to thrive.

The berry shrubs and fruit trees teach us this. Plant a blueberry shrub in the middle of a dense forest and it will be hard pressed to bear much fruit while in the shade. Similarly, plant a pawpaw tree in the middle of an open field without its needed overstory, and it will struggle to survive. This is all to say: one helpful tip to slowing down your life is to think of productivity less as things you do. Consider what goodness might flow from your life as you learn how to be: be yourself, be honest about your needs, and be intentional about planting yourself in the places best suited for your growth and flourishing.

nature speaks

Last week I shared about a pineapple sage bush I loved. I told the story of its death and seeming resurrection in the form of eleven new shrubs born of its seed dispersal at the end of its days. A true gift.

I had a similar experience with my baptisia, a perennial I’d planted in my flower garden last year. Much like the pineapple sage, by winter’s arrival, it was nowhere to be found. I thought I’d planted it in a place that didn’t get enough sun. I was certain it was gone for good. But this spring, as I returned to my flower garden day after day, I was startled by these silvery-green stalks breaking up through the clay. It took me many days to realize these stalks were in fact my beloved baptisia, back from her winter’s rest.

Nature speaks: There are moments in life when we’re tempted to believe all is lost, but Baptisia reminded me that there are times when growing things must go underground for a season so they may become strong enough to meet the world in due time.

quotable

“If you don’t choose a time to rest, your body will choose it for you.”

- the author is unknown to me, but if you know, please share and I’ll update this.

off the shelf

I recently finished Into the Silent Land which is a guide to Christian contemplation by Martin Laird. I was first exposed to this text during my spiritual direction training. Not only is the book beautifully written and very practical, but I view it as one of those bridge texts that supported my journey from the spiritual wilderness into holy tradition. One of my favorite sections of this book is about how our emotions function as both barriers and invitations into the deeper waters of the contemplative, spiritual life. Highly recommend.

worth lingering over

Quitting things is rarely easy, but it’s often necessary when striving to live a life of integrity. One of my favorite podcasts about this is Quitted, hosted by and Emily McDowell. Their most recent episode helped me process what it means to “walk away from the lives we think we want.” If you’re moving through an experience of quitting or leaving an old form of your life or yourself behind, their stories might give language and perspective for your journey.

In case you missed it

If you’re thinking about quitting social media for a period of time, check this out.
If you’re feeling overextended, you might find encouragement here.
We all need space to pause and delight. I write about that here.

Links to Stay In the Loop

/ Website
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/ Podcast
/ Archive

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