The Eight-Pound Life Coach I Never Hired 

I’ve always been quite quick and efficient. Quick to understand. Quick to act. Quick to respond. Then the “slow life” hit me full force on a beautiful fall day not too long ago. Not in the form of an inspiring book or a yoga retreat in India, but in the form of Fuji, a little Scottish Straight cat who’s now three years old. Since I didn’t want her wandering around outside alone, I started walking her on a leash when she was about 18 months old. I naively thought I was walking the cat. Beginner’s mistake. Fuji quickly showed me that, in this relationship, I was really just the bodyguard tied to the other end of the leash.

And No, I’d Never Had a Cat Before…

I’d never had a cat. So I didn’t know she’d lead me wherever she wanted, whenever she wanted. That’s how I discovered what it means to spend 12 minutes gazing at the top of a tree, hoping to see a squirrel move. At first, I’d sigh and get impatient, but one day, I found myself looking up too.

Since then, I’ve started working from home, and we’ve gone on more walks, making those seemingly pointless stops that, in the end, aren’t so pointless after all. I’ve always loved trees, parks, and fresh air, and these daily walks have reconnected me to a source of well-being that our professional lives so often rob us of. Some call it the “slow life.” I call it being re-educated by an eight-pound animal who refuses to bow to the dictates of our overly hurried society.

What Exactly Is Slow Living?

When I noticed the change Fuji was bringing about in me, I immediately felt that I was truly slowing down for the first time, but I’d never been interested in the concept of slow living before that. It’s part of a reaction against the fast pace imposed everywhere and began with the concept of slow food – as opposed to fast food – in Italy in the late 1980s.

However, that doesn’t mean you have to start baking your own bread or meditating for two hours a day in a minimalist home. It’s not a TikTok challenge that demands you be perfectly zen, perfectly natural, perfectly slow – and, ultimately, perfectly boring! Rather, it’s a way to reclaim your attention and take back control of your time. As K. Bouskill said in the TED Talk linked above: “If you’re lucky enough to decide the pace at which you want to travel through life, it’s a privilege – use it!”

Slowing Down Doesn’t Mean Becoming Inactive

Slowing down doesn’t mean stopping or lacking ambition. Rather, it’s about choosing your own pace instead of getting swept up in everyone else’s. It’s about being more present in what you’re doing. Doing fewer things at once. It’s about stopping measuring the value of a day solely by the number of tasks crossed off a list. Sometimes, it takes a cat staring at a hedge for 10 minutes to remind us that there’s no rush!

Nature as an Antidote to Immediacy

Nature has a quality that is deeply frustrating in our time: it doesn’t rush. Nature works differently. It imposes a different kind of time – a time in which things appear, disappear, return, and change subtly. A time that doesn’t need to be monetized to exist. And when we spend enough time outdoors – even in a neighborhood park – we breathe more easily. We see more clearly. We think differently.

The Luxury of Not Being Productive

One of the most interesting aspects of the slow life is its relationship to productivity. We’ve internalized the idea that every minute must be put to use so deeply that the simple act of producing nothing becomes uncomfortable. We’ve been taught to make our lives profitable, but it’s precisely those moments free of performance – when no one is evaluating us, rushing us, or comparing us – that allow us to stay on our feet. Slow time is not wasted time.

Slow Living and Aging: Slowing Down Without Disappearing

There is also a very interesting aspect to explore regarding aging. In a society obsessed with youth, slowing down can be misinterpreted. We too often associate speed with relevance: responding quickly, understanding quickly, adapting quickly, producing quickly. But what if slowing down was an act of clarity?

As we age, we often gain a better understanding of what deserves our energy. We become more selective, better able to recognize false priorities. Slow living, in this sense, isn’t a withdrawal from the world. It’s a reclaiming of power. It means: I’m not going to disappear, but I’m also not going to let myself be consumed just to prove that I’m still “in the loop.”

What Fuji Taught Me

Fuji knows nothing about slow living. She doesn’t have a life coach. She doesn’t read essays on mindfulness. She doesn’t have a vision board. And yet, she’s taught me so much. She just wants to feel the fence, watch the birds, keep an eye on the squirrels, and decide she’s not ready to go back inside. She’s taught me that some things don’t offer immediate rewards, but nourish us all the same – or that a walk can be a memorable experience. I haven’t become a paragon of serenity, but now when Fuji stops to look at something, I stop too – without any impatience! Thoreau said: “If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer.” Slowing down doesn’t mean losing the rhythm; it’s more about choosing the music. But for me, my conductor often refuses to move forward.

What About You?

As you’ve gotten older, have you chosen to slow down, or did something lead you to do so? Are you now more selective about what’s worth your time? What seemingly “pointless” little moment really makes you feel good?