Slowing Down, Letting Feelings Flow

A personal reflection on what happens when we stop moving and start listening.

There was a moment, years ago, when the world went still. I stepped off the plane and into an unexpected quiet. As a flight attendant for years, I had grown so accustomed to caring for others and adapting to constant motion that I had forgotten how to stop. My temporary break became something more: a profound turning point.

Slowing down was not easy. I was conditioned to manage, hold things together,  to keep going. But when I finally stopped, something else came in. The quieter parts of me. Feelings I hadn’t made room for. Grief, joy, exhaustion, longing—all showed up, asking to be felt. I didn’t have clear answers for them. But I let them in. 

Slowing down was not easy. I was conditioned to manage, hold things together,  to keep going.

I began to live slower,  aware of my surroundings, choosing to be in company of people who welcomed the real me. This wasn’t just a break from work. It was a break from the expectations I’d carried for so long.

I’ve learned that slowing down doesn’t mean doing less. It means doing what matters, with care. With presence. It means noticing the morning light on the wall or the breath in your chest. It means listening. And in that listening, something begins to soften.

This is still my path today—through yoga, breathwork, writing, and the sacred rhythm of daily life. After more than a decade I even returned to flying - at a much slower pace. Today, slowing down continues to offer me what I didn’t know I needed: space to feel, space to heal, space to return home,-to myself first. 

Slowing down means doing what matters, with care. With presence.

Yoga, breathwork, writing, and the sacred rhythm of daily life