The Problem Behind "Slow Living" as a Buzzword

Panta rei,  "everything flows." - Philosophy attributed to pre-Socratic philosopher Heraclitus 

Slow is smooth, and smooth is fast. - Unknown. 

What happens when a philosophy of life becomes the newest capitalist thing in wellness and travel.

This year, I saw a number of posts on the internet, as well as a poignant newsletter from the famous relationship psychologist Esther Perel, of people lamenting their inability to enjoy vacations. The combination of feeling addicted to work and social media, as well as a haunting awareness of everything wrong in the world (notably rampant fires throughout southern Europe), loomed like a specter over their beach days. For Perel, said revelation came about while on a boat in Greece. One could write these off as first-world, shallow issues. But we know how seriously Greeks take their time off, or “diakopes,” a word whose etymology implies a “cutting” from our normal routines.

But what if we cannot cut off anymore? The cult show The White Lotus explores in depth just how wrong things can go on vacation, and of course, even pre-internet, things weren’t always perfect. But we were simply just THERE, no emails allowed. I’m left wondering: In the era of cell phones, e-sims, and pressure to show off our precious diakopes on vacation, can we truly cut off? If we’ve lost our ability to relax, perhaps we’ve simply lost it. 

In my brand and project Yia Mas, I create wellness retreats and espouse a philosophy of slow living. As someone who’s lived primarily in New York City for the past decade and attended a hyper-competitive East Coast university prior to that, the slow-living ethos became something of a balm for my capitalism-crusted soul. Our content is often intended to have an ASMR-like effect, and I write a lot on our Instagram about practical tools for wellbeing, as well as the necessity to practice them rather than simply read them on the internet. We can mistake consuming content for living it - and that’s scary. The Greek word Gnosis, which may be translated as “knowledge based on personal experience or perception,” reminds us that we must practice things. The pursuit of well-being ought to be experiential; commenting “wow, vibes” on a post of Greek taverna is not the same as putting your phone away and enjoying one of those slow meals where the plates and wine are never-ending, and it takes a half hour to get your check (another great reminder to slow down). 

“Just as early industrial capitalism moved the focus of existence from being to having, post-industrial culture has moved that focus from having to appearing.”

― Guy Debord, The Society of the Spectacle

Enter slow living. In the era of Instagram, it’s become branded. In this safe space that is the page, i’ll admit that I fear this, and often fear that by participating in internet culture, I’m part of the problem. Someone may create the most soothing content, but in person, perhaps they’re a nervous wreck, unable to enjoy said taverna meal because they’re so hell-bent on capturing it to garner views. If slow living is now marketing fodder to sell bracelets, what’s left? 

Yia Mas creates workshops and retreats that cultivate curiosity by celebrating how well-being is embedded in the Greek land, culture, and ancient philosophy. Because we also work (hi!, normal human here), we know it can be hard to LIVE in moments of deep presence and bliss. Creating containers for deep presence is an art form - and comes in many forms, both planned and unplanned. On our retreats, I encourage participants not to get too heady about things. I firmly believe that in tandem with our movement classes and immersive cultural activities, some of the best healing is found in simply connecting with the Greek land and each other. Yes, it can be that simple. Slowing down doesn’t mean dumbing down. In fact, it enhances a deep presence that makes it more or less impossible for us to numb out to life - and yes, I think falling into a content wormhole is one of the worst, most prevalent ways we all (self included) numb out. 

Let us return to some universal truths. All good things come to an end. Impermanence is the one certainty in this life, a truth found in the tenets of ancient Hellenic philosophies and Buddhism alike. As a diaspora Greek, I’m well-acquainted with the borderline obsessive approach we take to Greek summer. And now that life is online, Greek summer has become a yearlong narrative. In many cases, it’s become branded, packaged, sold, and recreated in reels and posts celebrating this supposedly joyous time of year when life is perfect. The comedian Gus Constantellis has a bit that captures this perfectly: a Greek American is in Greece, explaining how much better everything is there. From the 4D water to the fact that you can eat a perfect Greek salad, Constantellis’ bit encapsulates many of the hallmarks that keep many a diaspora Greek putting our time in Greece on a pedestal. And you know what, I do believe it’s sacred. For most diaspora Greeks, our families left the country under traumatic, difficult circumstances. Our grandparents or parents endured “xenitia,” and we ourselves have never felt fully Greek or fully American. We exist in an (often beautiful) otherness that’s taken on a life of its own. I like to call it “Greek America.” And so it is. 

“Siga siga…” -Slowly, slowly, or “take it slow,” Greek saying

So I’m left to ponder:  can we reclaim our ability to slow down and unplug enough to let things flow? Can we experience the inner spaciousness that emerges when we temper the noise that keeps our nervous systems in a constant state of technology-addicted hypervigilance? And what if some of the most perfect moments on our retreats and vacations, which are inherently orchestrated experiences, are the unplanned ones? For Yia Mas retreats, I work hard to create the architecture of an experience but also leave space for synchronicities, like when the retreat group happens upon live music at a taverna and stays late into the night, holding hands and dancing the dances we learned that day in a circle. Or we spontaneously walk to Chora on the loveliest evening with perfect golden hour light. Those stairs are really all the workout you need. The happy accidents, if you will.