The art of slow weekends…
Hustle culture did something quiet and cruel to us. It hollowed us out. And AI isn’t making it better. We live in a world that rewards motion. Constant, visible, productive motion. So much so that taking a slow weekend almost feels like a moral failing. Like if you’re not optimising your off-days, are you even serious about your life?
And weekends don’t even feel like weekends anymore. Saturdays are for processing Fridays. Sundays are just Mondays in disguise. And somehow, in between, you’re supposed to grocery shop, meal prep, do laundry, call people back, and also rest. Rest. As if that word still means something.
And if you’re an introvert, you already know. People will find a way to fill every quiet corner of your weekend with plans. So instead of coming back to yourself, you leave the weekend more depleted than you entered it.
But if you’re someone who genuinely wants to slow down, not as a trend, but as a way of staying sane, these are the rituals that have kept me grounded.
A morning ritual that’s yours
No pressure to wake up early. Your morning starts when it starts. But before the world gets in, before the notifications and the noise, do something that belongs to you. For me, it’s been the cafe with a book for months. Every Friday, that thought alone makes me feel something. Yours might be stretching, a slow walk, sitting with someone you love. Close your eyes and ask yourself: where do I feel most at peace? Start there.
Walk like you mean it
There’s a Japanese concept called shinrin-yoku. Forest bathing. It goes beyond simply being in nature. It’s a sensory relationship with where you are. The smell. The movement of leaves. The ground under you. It largely depends on where you’re located, your local environment matters. But when I learnt this, walking changed for me. It stopped being something I did for step counts. It became something I did to actually feel alive.
Be present, not just nearby
When we live life checking things off a to-do list, even time with loved ones starts to feel like a chore. Because we’re never truly there, even when we think we are. Being present isn’t a passive thing. It takes effort. Real effort. You have to let go of every stimulation, every pull, every distraction, and choose to actually be there. Even mentally. Especially mentally.
Rearrange something small at home
I know, it sounds like a chore. But as they say, even a simple act of decluttering helps you think with so much more clarity. Your body moves a little. And somehow, you welcome the upcoming week with more fulfilment. It’s a small act with a quiet kind of power.
Cook something. Slowly.
We hurry through meals in front of screens, barely tasting anything. And it leaves us unsatisfied, binge eating without cherishing a single bite. Cooking a new meal changes that. It connects you to the way nature works. You feel thankful for the produce. You’re present in a way that a delivery app can never offer you. There’s gratitude in it, even when the dish doesn’t come out right.
Look at Monday from a distance
Sunday’s hard. The weight of Monday hangs over it. But when you just lay things out from a distance, you don’t attach yourself to the work, you don’t feel panicky. You’re an onlooker. You can’t escape tomorrow. But you can meet it with a little more clarity, and a little less dread.
None of this is revolutionary. You’ve heard some version of it before. But knowing and doing are very different things. The weekends will keep coming. And they’ll keep disappearing too, faster than you expect. What changes isn’t the time you have. It’s what you choose to do with the quiet. Even a little intentionality goes a long way. Not to be productive. Just to feel like yourself again.
