Reading · Everyday Wanders

I talk a lot about slow living.

When I resigned from teaching four years ago, my nervous system was a wreck. After years of pushing too hard, it’s taken a long time to learn to breathe again.

And if I’m being truthful, I’m still learning.

In fact, if you’ve read my work for awhile now, you know that I usually talk about “slower” living. Some days, a more intentional way of doing things comes pretty easily. And then there are those other days.

Old habits are hard to break, and so I am also learning to be more forgiving with myself.

I like the message that “slower” implies, and I have seen progress over time.

In my journey for “less noise” and “more life,” I have especially championed returning to nature and taking time to notice what we find there.

If you’re a nature lover too, you know that it isn’t always about the animals, the trees, or the breeze.

It’s about you. It’s about me. It’s about the connection of everything.

Just like nature, slow living isn’t just about “slow living.”

And it’s not even the fun or really interesting part.

Awhile back, I talked about my curiosity, and how I think this is the true trait a nature photographer most needs.

We need something before we can truly become curious though.

We need space to breathe.

We need time to notice.

My very first post here on Substack was about perpetual youth.

If you haven’t read

that post, I hope you will. But here’s the secret about youth: It’s in the woods. (Or at least it is if you believe Ralph Waldo Emerson.)

And for me, it

is in the woods. Wandering slowly in nature is not optional: It gives me life. It helps me breathe. It allows me to notice.

When I did not take the time to do this regularly, I was incredibly out of balance.

Once I returned to the woods — or at least the paved bike path that runs behind my house — I began to heal.

My curiosity returned, too.

For you it might be nature, or it might be something else.

Maybe it’s sitting with a cup of coffee and enjoying the quiet of early morning. Maybe it’s reading a few pages of a book before bed at the end of a long day. Or maybe it’s making something with your hands, listening to music, tending a garden, or simply giving yourself permission to wonder about a question that keeps returning to you.

The beautiful thing about slower living is that it creates more space in our lives, and in experiencing that breathing room, we begin to recognize the things that have been there waiting for us the whole time.

Even though stepping away from teaching has allowed me to regain a lot of what I had lost, there’s something I really miss that I’ve only recently been able to put my finger on.

I enjoy posting and sharing on Substack, but it feels really one way.

What I miss most about teaching is the community.

Those discussion days in AP Literature when my students shared what they noticed as they read, made connections to the other “texts” of their lives and connected with one another?

I miss them.

Those times in the publications room when we closed the door and those journalists wrestled with topics and talked about what really mattered in their lives?

Those were the best.

I’m not leaving Substack.

But I have created a new home for people who, like me, might be looking for more moments of noticing, sharing, and connecting with others.

“The Patch” is a place to connect with others who have decided to make more room for what matters. It’s a community for people who choose “Less Noise. More Life.” Just because we want things a little quieter does not mean we want silence in every moment. Sometimes it is quite lovely to enjoy good conversation with those who are also taking time to notice and are eager to share their wanders and wonders.

While I love writing about slowing down, what I really want to talk about is what we discover when we do.

What are we noticing?
What questions are we carrying?
What little moments made us smile this week?
What unexpected things caught our attention?

This is the conversation I’ve been craving and I’m trying to create more space for.

I recently started a small gathering place called The Patch. If you’re a birder, you might be familiar with the term “patch” as a place we return to often— like I return to the bike path behind my house.

The Patch is a place for people who are interested in living with less noise and replacing it with more awareness, and I want it to be a space to share the things we notice as we seek — often imperfectly — a slower, more intentional life.

One of the reasons I enjoy writing is because sometimes a simple observation becomes more meaningful when we share it with someone else.

And though discussions in the comments at the bottom of a post are wonderful when they happen, I want a place where those conversations can continue beyond a single post.

If you’ve been looking for a place to explore nature, curiosity, creativity, and the everyday moments that make life feel more alive — I’d love to welcome you into The Patch.You don’t have to be a nature photographer, a birder, or someone who has mastered slow living. (I certainly haven’t!) You just have to be someone who wants to notice.

And whether you join us there or simply continue sharing your reflections here, I hope you’ll keep noticing.

Keep wondering.

Keep wandering.

Slow Living Isn't the Point

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