There’s a moment every November when the world feels like it suddenly hits fast-forward.
Holiday plans. Deadlines. Obligations you didn’t have last week but somehow now own.
It’s as if the calendar flips a switch and says, “Hurry. Do more. Go faster.”
But here’s the thing: nature doesn’t do that.
Stand in a November garden and you’ll notice something quietly astonishing – everything is slowing down.
The leaves fall in slow spirals.
The air thickens.
The days stretch their shadows like long exhalations.
And while we’re speeding up, the earth is easing into stillness.
So the real question isn’t How do we keep up?
It’s Why are we racing when the rest of the natural world is resting?
And maybe…
How do we realign with a wiser rhythm?
- Start by paying attention to the pace you’re absorbing.
Most of our urgency isn’t born within us.
We catch it – like a cold.
Emails. Ads. Social media.
Everyone and everything seems to be telling us to “hustle,” “maximize,” “do more before the year ends.”
But urgency and hustle culture is contagious only if we allow it to be.
So today, notice where the speed and sense of urgency is coming from.
Ask yourself:
Is this pace mine? Or did I borrow it from someone else?
Often, slowing down begins by returning what isn’t ours to carry.
- Practice the November Pause.
Nature pauses before winter.
Not because it’s weak, but because it’s wise.
Try your own small, deliberate pauses:
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- A longer inhale before you respond.
- A few quiet minutes in the garden, or staring out the window, or simply standing still.
- A moment each day where you let your shoulders drop back into your body.
These micro-pauses are the human version of trees conserving energy.
Slow doesn’t mean unproductive.
It means intentional.
- Choose slow rituals over fast habits.
The world will always hand you shortcuts.
But the things that build resilience – joy, clarity, groundedness – are slow by design.
Tea brewed, not microwaved.
Walks taken, not rushed through.
A conversation where neither person checks their phone.
Slow rituals remind your nervous system that you don’t need to run. You’re not being chased.
They create inner spaciousness, even when the outer world is chaotic.
- Listen for the wisdom beneath the noise.
Speed keeps us skimming the surface of life.
Slowness lets us hear what’s actually going on.
This is the time of year when gardens whisper instead of shout.
They’re not blooming or buzzing or showing off.
They’re simply being.
And in that being, there’s a kind of quiet knowing:
Everything important grows at its own pace.
Trying to force it doesn’t make it grow faster or better – just more fragile.
You don’t have to perform at summer speed in a November season of your life.
- Protect your energy the way trees protect their roots.
When winter approaches, trees stop sending energy to their leaves.
They conserve.
They store.
They prepare.
Maybe your version of that is:
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- Saying no to one more commitment.
- Leaving an event early.
- Reducing the emotional labor you silently shoulder.
- Choosing rest without guilt.
This isn’t being selfish.
It’s seasonal intelligence.
It’s about supporting your well-being.
Slowing down isn’t a luxury. It’s a survival skill.
And the world will not slow down for you.
But nature will teach you how – if you’re willing to step out of the external frenzy and step back into your personal rhythm.
What I have learned in both my personal life and professional practice is that when the world speeds up, the most radical – yet powerful – thing you can do is:
To refuse to match its pace.
Because that’s the moment you stop living reactively and start living intentionally.
That’s the moment you will hear your own voice again –
not the noise, not the pressure, not the expectations –
Your Voice.
And it’s in that moment you remember something essential:
Speed doesn’t make a life meaningful.
Presence does.
Connection does.
Embracing the wonders and joys of your ordinary, extraordinary life does.
So the next time the world accelerates, don’t tighten your grip.
Pause.
Breathe.
Return to your own rhythm.
The world will keep spinning. But you will not. You will move through it with clarity, steadiness, and a kind of quiet courage that only grows in seasons and moments of pause.
Because slowing down isn’t falling behind.
It’s a healthy way to move forward.
