Entry # 5 — Why Some People Fear Slowness
- Jameson Dwayne
- Feb 28
- 2 min read
Updated: Apr 25
I used to assume slowness was comfort.
Soft lighting.
Unhurried touch.
A room that does not demand anything.
But the longer I observe,
the more curious I become about why some people fear slowness.
Not everyone relaxes when things slow down.
Some people become brighter.
More animated.
More verbal.
Some reach for distraction.
Some rush the beginning.
Some ask, “Are we starting?”
As if stillness is a delay.
As if quiet is something to get through.
There is always a moment before a session truly begins.
The door closes.
The air settles.
Nothing is required yet.
Just presence.
And presence can feel… revealing.
Stillness removes momentum.
And without momentum, there is nowhere to hide.
No urgency to lean on.
No performance to maintain.
Just the self.
I’ve started noticing that emotional maturity has a rhythm to it.
It is rarely loud.
It appears in the way someone breathes when nothing is happening.
In whether they can sit in a pause
without trying to repair it.
In whether they allow touch to unfold
instead of steering it toward outcome.
There is no diagnosis here.
Only observation.
Some bodies soften immediately.
Others brace.
Slowness seems to amplify what is already there.
If someone is at ease with themselves,
slowness feels expansive.
If someone is uneasy,
slowness can feel sharp.
Not wrong.
Just exposed.
Urgency seeks sensation.
Depth tolerates space.
The people who do not fear quiet often do not chase intensity either.
They allow the experience to build gradually.
They trust the pace.
And the body responds differently to that trust.
A longer exhale.
A shoulder that drops without instruction.
A nervous system that no longer scans.
Slowness is not absence.
It is information.
And what it reveals is rarely dramatic.
It is subtle.
A rhythm.
A tolerance.
A steadiness.
I am still curious about it.
Still watching.
Still learning what unfolds
when nothing is rushed.