“Life moves at exactly the right speed, we’re the ones who are going too fast.” – Alan Watts

I had just completed a 2-year, $14m program at work. It had taken everything I had and then some. There were nights when I could barely keep my eyes open while reading a good night story to my kids. I noticed as time went by that this fatigue, when left ignored, started to fester into despair and depression. I was fighting my body at every turn, pushing myself harder and harder. All the joy in life had been taken out of me, and I found myself with nothing left to give. I could see it start to affect my career, my home life, and my general well being. Something needed to change, but what?

The answer came in the most infuriating way possible:

My mind rebelled immediately: “Are you kidding me? Do LESS? I’m already behind!”, “I can’t slow down – everything will fall apart.”, “Must be nice to have that luxury.”, “I don’t have TIME to slow down.”

And yet… deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. You probably know the feeling:

• That constant weight in your chest.
• The mind that won’t shut off at 3 AM.
• The endless loop of “just one more thing.”
• The bone-deep exhaustion that coffee can’t touch anymore.

The suggestion to “slow down” felt like a slap in the face. But here’s the thing about hitting empty – you don’t really have a choice anymore.

The frantic pace feels like bouncing around in a pinball machine, lights flashing, bells ringing, never a moment’s peace. There’s always something more: Another email. One more meeting. Add an item on the endless todo list. Cross one off, two more appear. It’s like playing whack-a-mole with your life.

Before too long, exhaustion and burnout aren’t just words anymore – they’re your constant companions. The sick joke? The only thing keeping you going is more stress. More coffee. More pushing. It’s a vicious cycle that feels impossible to break.

Stay here too long (and most of us do), and things start to break down. Your body waves the white flag: fatigue, brain fog, maybe even illness. Emotionally? You’re running on empty, scraping the bottom of a well that dried up months ago. Depression and despair aren’t far behind – they’re just waiting for their moment.

So what are you supposed to do?

I know, I know. I rolled my eyes too when I first heard it, but stay with me here.

Slowing down isn’t what you think. It’s not about becoming a monk or retiring to a mountain cave. It’s about finding those moments – those tiny spaces between the chaos – where you can just… be. It’s watching a sunset and actually feeling its warmth. It’s noticing your breath and marveling in it’s wonder. It’s the space between thoughts where something else can finally speak.

I’m going to share my practice with you, but first, a confession: Even as I was experiencing the power of doing nothing, part of me wanted to document it, analyze it, turn it into content. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Sometimes the hardest thing is just letting the experience be the experience.

• 7 PM: Family fed, expectations set (“Dad needs some quiet time”)
• 7:30 PM: Everything wrapped up – teeth brushed, water by the bed
• 8 PM: Kids tucked in, retreat to my study
  • Dim the lights
  • Light a few candles
  • Set an intention: “I am allowing myself to do nothing so that I might recharge”
  • Follow the breath
  • When thoughts come racing in: “Just do nothing”
  • Receive whatever comes – healing, energy, intuition, or just silence
• 9 PM: Gratitude for the gift of emptiness

Here’s the truth that took me too long to learn: We can’t hold space for anything or anyone if we’re stuffed to the brim with our own noise. “Slow it down” isn’t just a nice idea – it’s the act of creating space itself. It’s saying “There is nothing more important than this moment here and now.”

It’s a clearing practice. Each moment of stillness expands our capacity to be present, to serve, to actually live instead of just survive.

• What stories do you tell yourself about “doing nothing”?
• How is life asking you to slow down right now?
• What might you find in the silence?