Slowing Down to Live Better: Finding Balance in a Fast-Paced World
/By Shelley Murasko
As a young college student in Ann Arbor, Michigan—the heart of U.S. auto production— I chose to major in Industrial Engineering driven by a passion for efficiency in manufacturing. The idea of continuous improvement—faster, leaner, better—guided my studies, where we explored Japanese optimization techniques to help restore America’s status as a top carmaker.
Since then, I’ve developed a deep appreciation for efficiency in my own life. I love shopping for groceries online and marvel at modern conveniences like high-speed hair dryers, robot vacuums, and on-demand TV. (After all, who wants to wait around for next week’s episode of Yellowstone when you can watch it now?) In addition, managing a business and a family seem more achievable with computers, dishwashers, laundry appliances, and in-the-bag salad kits.
However, I’ve also discovered that living life in overdrive has its downsides. In our relentless pursuit of efficiency, we’ve created a societal paradox: we’re more productive than ever but often feel less fulfilled. Today’s conveniences help us work faster, yet we’ve forgotten how to savor the time we’re saving.
Efficiency is undeniably alluring. It promises order, progress, and control over our chaotic lives. Apps deliver holiday gifts to our doorsteps, e-cards eliminate the need for handwritten notes, and streaming platforms provide entertainment with a click. Yet this obsession with doing more in less time has turned our days into a never-ending checklist, where the goal becomes simply finishing tasks rather than enjoying life.
Take cooking, for example. Once a communal ritual filled with aromas, flavors, and shared laughter, it’s now become a time-saving task with meal-prepping services and microwaveable dinners. But at what cost? The tactile pleasure of kneading dough, the meditative rhythm of chopping vegetables, and the deep satisfaction of feeding loved ones have all been diminished. What was once an enriching experience has been reduced to an obligation to outsource or rush.
The same holds true for work. Remote technology and task-management tools allow us to complete tasks with unmatched speed. But this efficiency has also blurred the lines between work and leisure, keeping us constantly available.
A recent Wall Street Journal article, “The Drugs Young Bankers Use Through the Day,” highlighted an investment banker’s reliance on Adderall to cope with his 90-hour workweek. This career not only jeopardizes his health but also diminishes the fulfillment of a hard day’s work, diluted by the endless stream of notifications and demands.
Even downtime has become optimized: we listen to podcasts at high speed, skim book summaries instead of reading the full text, and cram mindfulness into five-minute meditation apps. We might even multi-task on our iPhones when we could be relishing a meal with a friend or enjoying a night out.
This cultural obsession with efficiency leaves little room for reflection, creativity, and genuine connection. It fosters restlessness, keeping us focused on the next task instead of the present moment. Worse, it promotes the dangerous illusion that life’s value is measured by our productivity rather than the depth of our experiences.
Living slower doesn’t mean rejecting modern conveniences or giving up our ambitions. It’s about choosing purpose over urgency. It means walking instead of driving when time allows, handwriting a note instead of texting, and granting ourselves permission to pause. Slower living invites us to reconnect with our senses and rediscover beauty in the everyday—the warmth of sunlight on a morning stroll, the earthy scent of rain, or the simple joy of sharing a meal without distractions.
Societies that embrace slower lifestyles often report higher levels of satisfaction. Consider the Scandinavian concept of hygge, which celebrates coziness, togetherness, and contentment. Similarly, the Italian idea of dolce far niente—the sweetness of doing nothing—emphasizes the joy of simply being. These philosophies remind us that slowing down isn’t laziness; it’s a conscious choice to reclaim our humanity in a world fixated on speed over substance.
The way forward isn’t to abandon efficiency but to balance it with meaning. By valuing moments over metrics, depth over haste, and connection over productivity, we can learn to live not only slower but better. In doing so, satisfaction could once again become a cornerstone of our lives, reminding us that the best moments are not those we rush through, but those we linger in.
As we look ahead, I wish you a meaningful and fulfilling start to the new year. Perhaps, in small ways, we can choose to live a little slower and rediscover the satisfaction that’s been left behind.
