When Moving Slowly Is an Act of Strength

By Dr. Guadalupe Vanderhorst Rodriguez, D.Ac

Some mornings don’t ask us to do more. They ask us to steady ourselves first.

There is a quiet pressure many people carry — the feeling of always needing to catch up. Catch up to expectations. Catch up to responsibilities. Catch up to a version of life that seems just a step ahead.

This pressure often shows up early in the day, before we’ve even had time to breathe.

But slowness is not a failure to engage with life. Often, it is the moment when we finally do.

Moving slowly allows us to notice what we usually overlook: the weight of a mug in our hands, the warmth rising from it, the way light enters a room without asking permission. These small moments don’t demand productivity. They offer presence.

There is strength in this kind of noticing.

Strength does not always arrive as action. Sometimes it arrives as restraint — the choice not to rush, not to push, not to force clarity before it’s ready to appear. Steadiness is its own form of resilience.

Many people believe strength must be visible to be real. But some of the strongest moments are quiet ones. Sitting still when the world encourages speed.

Allowing a pause without explaining it. Trusting that nothing meaningful is lost by moving gently.

Simple rituals help us return to this steadiness. A familiar cup in the morning. A seat near the window. A few minutes that belong to no one else.

These moments don’t solve everything, but they ground us enough to move forward without feeling scattered.

Gentleness does not remove responsibility. It simply reminds us that we do not need to carry everything at once.

There will always be days that require effort, decisions, and endurance. But there are also days that ask us to begin where we are — rooted, not rushed.

And that, too, is strength.

This reflection is part of the Calm Collection at Kicotan Haven.