Slowing Down

I recently came across this blog post from, Villagers, one of my all-time favorite shops in Asheville, NC. The author discusses JOMO, or the Joy of Missing Out, which runs counter to the more commonly-discussed FOMO, or Fear of Missing Out. FOMO is an incredibly common experience, but JOMO—though less common—certainly implies a more enjoyable state of mind.

The author shares how reaching a point of joy was a process, one that occurred equally by choice and by force when she began homesteading. She had to stay home to take care of so many chores, even though part of her felt anxious by what she was missing out on. I love that she acknowledged how much this process of joy required self-awareness and essentially self-forgiveness.

Although an older post, I came across this article right as I had finished putting up enough zucchini to make nearly 30 zucchini breads over the next year. The post also led to my reflection on the chaos of my mother's kitchen and how homey and inviting it feels to me.

It feels funny to me now to think that this chaos was sparked by a thought of slowing down.  But they're synonymous in my mind. There is something so simple about storing food for the year ahead. A methodical and repetitive task, yes, but also more than that.  It feels like getting back to the basics. Back to a slower time.

Maybe "slower" actually means less anxious. With this task, I'm not thinking about my career path and whether I'm on the right track for tenure. I'm not thinking about the mortgage, student loans, a failing car that needs to be replaced, the work still needed on the house, and upcoming baby expenses.  I'm not trying to keep up with social engagements and wondering if I'm staying in touch enough. I'm not comparing myself to others or feeling a pressure to "keep up."

Instead, I'm completing a rather simple, almost mindless task.  And it gives me time to think about past good memories (see previous post about my mother) or of the ones coming up. Of the dinners or desserts I'll make. Of the wonderful people I'll share them with. Or perhaps of times when my own daughter will see me making an absolute mess in the kitchen and think, "What a crazy woman.  Is that what I'm going to be like someday?"

She will if she's lucky...