Summer Is Inviting You to Slow Down
But if you’ve spent decades in go mode, you may need to relearn how to play first.
A friend told me last weekend that she struggles with rest and play.
She says she wants both. She just doesn’t know how to enjoy it.
Oddly enough, this conversation took place in a park on a beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon.
We were sitting in the shade listening to live music. The grass was lush and green. The sky was that perfect summer blue. There was a steady breeze that made the whole afternoon feel effortless. At one point she encouraged me to take off my shoes and put my feet in the grass.
So when she told me she struggles with rest, I almost laughed at the irony. Because there we were. Outside. Listening to music. Having nowhere to be. Doing absolutely nothing productive.
And yet she still felt disconnected from play and rest. I totally get it. I used to be there myself. I would be doing exactly what we were doing that day, but internally I’d be complaining that I could be getting so much done instead of wasting time just sitting there.
It got me thinking…I bet a lot of high achievers are like that.
We know how to work hard and push through. We know how to override our bodies, ignore our exhaustion, and convince ourselves that just one more thing won’t hurt. We know how to be productive to a fault.
But play? Rest? Sitting outside for an hour doing absolutely nothing? That can feel weirdly uncomfortable.
Maybe it’s because we’ve spent so much of our lives believing our worth comes from what we produce. Slowing down can feel unsafe. Or maybe after decades in go mode, stillness can feel unfamiliar.
I think adults need to learn how to play again. Somewhere along the way we started believing that everything needs a purpose.
A walk should count as exercise. Reading should teach us something. A hobby should become a side business. Even fun somehow turns into another thing to optimize. Or is maxing the word they’re using these days.
We have become so good at productivity that we’ve accidentally made it our entire personality. So when we finally sit down to rest, our minds refuse. We start making mental to-do lists. We think about work. We wonder what we should be cleaning, organizing, planning, or fixing.
We feel guilty being idle.
I told my friend she needed to practice it. She asked, “Okay, but how?”
And honestly, I had to think about it.
Because she’s right.
How do you practice play? That seems so silly. It seems like it’s something that should come naturally. Well, I think you approach it like anything else you want to learn how to do. You start small.
Five minutes on the porch with your morning coffee.
A walk without tracking your steps.
Reading a novel instead of another self-help book.
Lying in a hammock.
Listening to music without simultaneously folding laundry.
Putting your feet in the grass. Just like she suggested.
You let yourself do things that don’t need to become anything.
At first it may feel weird, boring or uncomfortable. You might even feel restless or guilty.
That’s okay. You’re building capacity. You’re teaching your nervous system that it is safe to slow down.
You’re learning that your worth does not disappear the moment you stop producing.
Maybe first we simply learn how to tolerate slowing down.
After all isn’t that what summer is quietly inviting us into.
Longer evenings. Open windows. Sitting outside after dinner.
Moments that simply remind us what it feels like to be human.
Maybe the little kid in you already knows how to do this. But she just got buried under to-do lists and responsibilities and productivity hacks.
Ways to Practice Play This Summer
Sit outside for fifteen minutes without your phone.
Read fiction just because it’s fun.
Listen to music and do nothing else.
Put your feet in the grass.
Color, garden, bake, or do a puzzle.
Go for a walk without tracking steps, calories, or pace.
Watch a sunset.
Spend time with people you enjoy with no agenda.
Try something you’re bad at just for the experience.
What did you love before everything had to be productive?
If this resonated with you, I’d love to have you here. Every week I write about ambition, identity, and nervous system regulation as different ways of building a life that’s sustainable enough to enjoy.