Some weeks reveal themselves through speed. Not the kind measured by clocks, but the kind you feel when your mind runs a day ahead of your body. That happened to me recently. I realized I had mentally skipped an entire day because my thoughts were already living in tomorrow. The future was exciting, full of color and possibility, but I had quietly left the present behind. That moment became a mirror. My pace was telling the truth about what I was believing.
When Speed Steals the Moment
Rushing often disguises itself as enthusiasm. I speed up when I start imagining what is coming next, when plans unfold quickly in my mind, and when anticipation lights everything up. Yet that acceleration costs something. Peace slips away first. Burnout follows closely behind. Resentment grows when I move too fast through decisions or creative work just to be done, rather than to be faithful. Scripture reminds me that “the Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still” (Exodus 14:14), and that stillness exposes how much I try to manage outcomes instead of inhabiting the moment I am already in.
Slowness as Attention
When my pace slows naturally, a different world opens. Details reappear. Light catches water at the right angle and turns it into sparkle. Lines on a leaf suddenly feel intentional. I hear my own internal dialogue more clearly and can tell when my thoughts are drifting too far ahead. Simone Weil wrote that “attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity,” and I feel that deeply when I allow slowness to return my attention to what is already here. In those moments, faith feels less like striving and more like listening.
Choosing an Honest Pace
An honest pace right now looks simple, even unimpressive. It means moving slowly through weekdays, reflecting often, and checking how my life aligns with what I say I believe. It means doing less for the sake of productivity and refusing to overload my plate just to feel accomplished. The apostle Paul wrote about pressing forward without being trapped by what lies behind (Philippians 3:13), and I am learning that forward movement does not require rushing. Sometimes it requires restraint. Sometimes it requires trust.
Soul Insights
1. Pace reveals belief.
My speed exposes what I believe about time, safety, and worth in any given moment. When I rush, I am often acting as if time is scarce and outcomes depend entirely on me. When I slow down, I remember that God exists outside of time and remains constant. Presence becomes an act of faith rather than a luxury. The moment itself becomes something to receive, not conquer.
2. Rushing always charges a hidden fee.
The cost of speed rarely shows up immediately. Peace drains quietly. Burnout accumulates. Resentment grows when I push past my own limits. Proverbs reminds me that “the plans of the diligent lead surely to abundance, but everyone who is hasty comes only to poverty” (Proverbs 21:5). Slowness protects more than energy; it protects the heart.
3. Slowness sharpens perception.
When I move slowly, the world becomes detailed again. Beauty shows up in ordinary places. My internal landscape grows clearer, and I notice what I am actually feeling instead of outrunning it. Slowness allows me to listen both outwardly and inwardly. It restores coherence between body, mind, and spirit.
4. An honest pace requires subtraction.
Going slow is less about adding rest and more about removing excess. It means doing fewer things for the sake of productivity alone. It means releasing the pressure to finish quickly and trusting that completion will come in its own time. This kind of pace asks for courage because it resists cultural urgency. Yet it feels sustainable in a way rushing never does.
5. Stillness re-centers trust.
Each time I pause, I remember that the present moment is a gift, even though it exists within time. Faith grows when I stop trying to outrun uncertainty. Trust does not always feel dramatic; often it feels quiet and unfinished. But over time, it proves steady. God’s care shows itself most clearly when I stop rushing past it.
Final Thoughts
This season keeps teaching me that speed is not the same as progress. My life does not ask for constant acceleration, only alignment. When I choose a pace that tells the truth, I live closer to what I actually believe rather than what I feel pressured to perform. Slowness becomes a form of honesty, a way of saying that presence matters more than projection and faith matters more than control. As I learn to walk instead of run, I find that nothing essential is lost. Peace returns. Attention deepens. And the present moment, once skipped over, becomes the very place where God is already waiting.
A Gentle Invitation
If this reflection resonates, my book 17 Syllables of Me might feel like a companion for your own slowing down. It’s a collection of haiku and reflections written for moments when life asks you to pause, notice, and listen more closely. You can explore it when you’re ready, without rushing.
© 2026 Amelie Chambord
Soul Path Insights 
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