Slow Living, Reconsidered

I thought sourdough would teach me slow living. Instead, it showed me how much of what we call “slow” is actually just pressure in disguise.

When I first started making sourdough, it was timers, windows, calculations, alarms, and a constant sense of needing to be on time. I couldn’t leave the house. I couldn’t relax. I might as well have been working an unpaid hourly job.

Yes, the process was long. And slow. And very Instagram “slow living”—at least aesthetically.

But it did not feel slow in my body, and that disconnect made me start questioning the entire slow living movement.