Lately, I’ve been noticing something I used to miss. When I slow down even a little, these small moments of clarity start to show up. Not the big life-changing insights. Just honest ones. The kind that bubble up only when I stop pushing myself to be efficient every second of the day.
One line from Four Thousand Weeks keeps coming back to me. It takes the time it takes.
Every time I read it, I exhale a little. Not because it’s an excuse to disengage. Because it reminds me that depth has its own pace. And as much as marketing loves speed, strategy usually needs space.
When the Universe Taps You on the Shoulder
I was thinking about that line again while watching an episode of Mythic Quest. I had it on to unwind, but the timing of the message felt too perfect. It actually made me laugh. Maybe it reminded me of my old COD gamer girl days. Or maybe it was just one of those moments where life hands you the same lesson until you’re finally ready to pay attention.
But the story from the book that I can’t shake is about a Harvard professor who asks her students to stare at one painting for three hours. No break. No scrolling. No pretending to be present.
Just attention.
The assignment wasn’t about art. It was about remembering how to stay with something long enough for it to unfold on its own timeline.
My Monet Moment
I learned that lesson in college without realizing it. I chose Monet for a project and ended up spending hours studying how he captured light. His work looks soft, but doing it justice felt incredibly demanding. Van Gogh was bold and expressive. Monet asked for patience.
That project forced me to slow down in a way I hadn’t before. For once, I wasn’t rushing or performing. I was just there, fully inside the moment. And I didn’t realize until recently how much I’ve been trying to get that feeling back.
Where Our Best Thinking Comes From
The older I get, the more I notice a pattern. The people who think well give themselves space. Einstein walked. Gates disappeared for Think Weeks. Writers take long pauses. Founders step away to see the bigger picture.
Insight rarely arrives in the middle of urgency. I’ve known that for years, but I forget it every time my calendar fills. Wonder is one of my strongest instincts, but it needs room. It doesn’t survive when I’m always on the go.
The Pedicure Epiphany
That truth landed again last night in the most ordinary way.
I’m the person who works during a pedicure. Laptop out. AirPods in. Inbox cleared while someone tries to help me relax. It’s almost muscle memory at this point.
But for some reason, I looked up. The technician glanced at me with one of those quiet looks that makes you aware of yourself in a new way. And it hit me. He was offering care. I was offering distraction.
The hardest question followed.
How many moments have I rushed through without ever being in them?
Letting Space Back In
So I’m practicing something different now. Not a life overhaul. Just intention.
I leave my phone behind on short walks.
I let the grocery line be a moment instead of an interruption.
And yes, I’m planning to sit through my next pedicure without checking my inbox.
The mind remembers how to settle if you let it. The noise fades. Your thinking sharpens. The day feels less like a race and more like something steady you’re allowed to participate in.
I keep reminding myself of something I say often in tough seasons.
"Clarity needs room to show up. You can’t lead well if you never stop moving."
Returning to the Line That Started It All
So I’m back to that line again. It takes the time it takes.
Not as permission to disengage. More like permission to trust that meaningful work, good strategy, and real clarity all move at a different speed than we want them to.
The more space I create, the more obvious it becomes. The moments we avoid because they feel empty are usually the ones holding the insight we’ve been chasing.
And maybe leadership isn’t about slowing down forever. Maybe it’s about slowing down long enough to return to ourselves. Long enough for our perspective to sharpen again. The way a Monet painting comes into focus only when you’re patient enough to stand there and really look.
If you want a marketing partner who values clarity, intention, and thoughtful strategy, our team at StringCan Interactive is here for you. Let’s create something meaningful together.
