The Healing Power of Slowness

It’s been a busy summer, and I acknowledge that I haven’t posted in a while.

Between travels, sessions, and simply living life, I’ve been reminded again and again of something essential: healing rarely happens in a hurry.

In a world that glorifies speed, faster results, instant gratification, constant stimulation — the body moves at a different rhythm. It doesn’t follow the mind’s timelines or society’s demands. The body trusts only what it can feel slowly.

When I work with someone, there’s often a moment when the pace drops when breathing deepens, awareness widens, and the nervous system begins to exhale. That’s when true contact happens. Touch becomes less about technique and more about listening. In that quiet, the body begins to remember what safety feels like.

Slowness isn’t laziness or indulgence. It’s precision. It allows what’s been frozen to thaw, what’s been fragmented to reunite. It invites the hidden parts of ourselves to come forward, knowing they will be met with patience, not pressure.

If there’s a medicine I trust most these days, it’s this:

Move slower than your fear. Breathe slower than your thoughts. Feel slower than your story.

That’s where healing begins — and where the body finally whispers, “I’m home.”