Living well: The case for slowing down

According to the Harvard Business Review, the average adult makes between 33,000 and 35,000 decisions each day. From what to wear to which emails to answer, our brains are constantly navigating a sea of choices – leaving many of us feeling scattered and drained.

It’s no wonder, then, that many people are starting to question whether this constant hustle truly serves us – either as individuals or as a society – and what the alternative could be.

The idea that slowing down can lead to a richer and more meaningful life isn’t new. Many cultures have long embraced the art of presence and the practice of simply being.

Olga Mecking, a Polish journalist based in the Netherlands, explores one such tradition in her book, Niksen: Embracing the Dutch Art of Doing Nothing. Niksen, she explains, is about “truly doing nothing – not working toward a measurable goal but being present in the moment. Like going for a walk just because it feels good, not for its health benefits.”

Importantly, Mecking insists that niksen isn’t laziness. It’s a universal impulse seen across cultures – from Italy’s dolce far niente to Japan’s boketto (see box below).

The idler in all of us

Few people have championed the virtues of slowing down as consistently as The Idler magazine and its editor, Tom Hodgkinson. Since 1993, the magazine has made a compelling case for idling – not as a synonym for laziness, but as a way of stepping back from the relentless drive to get ahead.

“The idea came from all sorts of places – from skateboarding culture and indie music to 18^th-century thinkers like Dr Samuel Johnson, an early advocate of idling,” Hodgkinson explains. “I was drawn to that spirit of resistance. I wanted to make something that asked, quite seriously: do we really have to live like this?”

As for the name, Hodgkinson says, “historically, being an ‘idler’ wasn’t seen as a bad thing. It meant spending time in salons, talking, thinking, reading. I wanted to bring out the positive side of it: choosing not to overwork, creating space for leisure, living on your own terms and making time for what really matters.”

Being present in practice

Choosing to be present can feel radical – and even wrong – in a culture that equates worth with output. “When everyone else is busy, rest can feel like a risk,” Mecking explains. “And many of us feel guilty for slowing down – like we’re failing if we’re not productive.”

Slowing down doesn’t mean stepping back – it’s about stepping into the present, creating space for sharper thinking, deeper connections and greater fulfilment. “We’re so used to giving our bodies breaks, but we forget our brains are part of the body too – and they need rest,” Mecking says. “When we push too hard, the quality of our thinking suffers. Taking breaks not only prevents burnout, it also boosts creativity. Our best ideas often come when we’re not looking for them.”

Doing less, then, isn’t just restful, it’s productive for us in a deeper, more human sense. And the benefits go beyond the individual. Slowing down creates space to focus on what truly matters, from your health to your relationships to your legacy – so you can live life on your terms.

Still, there’s an uncomfortable truth to acknowledge: for many people, the luxury of doing less is just that – a luxury. It’s easier to embrace rest when you have time, money and flexibility.

Mecking and Hodgkinson are both quick to point out, however, that many forms of slowing down don’t require wealth or swathes of free time. They can be found in small, everyday acts: a walk without a podcast, a cup of tea enjoyed in silence, a few minutes spent watching clouds drift by. These moments may not change the systems we live under, but they can change how we inhabit them.

Living more by doing less

For decades, busyness was worn as a badge of honour. But now, many are choosing to take that badge off. The Covid-19 pandemic brought this sharply into focus. “The pandemic was a real turning point,” Hodgkinson says. “There’s always been this idea that work keeps us from going astray. But I’ve always believed – maybe anarchistically – that when left to their own devices, people don’t collapse. They create.”

Indeed, many used the enforced Covid-19 pause to walk, paint, bake bread or learn new skills. Hodgkinson saw this firsthand at The Idler Academy, which offers more than 85 online courses spanning philosophy and gardening to ukulele playing. “We called the subjects philosophy, husbandry and merriment,” explains Hodgkinson. “Things that are oddly missing from modern education, even though they’re all about how to live.”

But perhaps the most valuable lesson isn’t what we learned – but what we started to unlearn: guilt. “That feeling that if you’re not working, you’re wasting time – it’s cultural, it’s learned,” says Hodgkinson. “You don’t need to feel guilty for staring at the trees.”

Especially when staring at the trees can lead to sharper thinking, deeper creativity and a steadier, more generous way of being – qualities that strengthen not just individuals, but society as a whole. And though idling may sound easy, Hodgkinson insists it’s a skill. “Paradoxically, it takes work to become good at doing nothing.”

So, maybe the most powerful thing we can do for ourselves is nothing. Or at least, nothing urgent. Because in the end, doing less might not mean living less, it might just mean living more.

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