Increasingly, I feel like a character from a Disney movie in the 1940s, living in a small wooden cabin under a green canopy, getting food from the plants outside, and doing chores in a ridiculous old-fashioned way (yes, we air-dry our clothes on a clothes line with pins), with a soundtrack of birdsong in the background. I love it to pieces. But not everyone does.
In a world that strives to be fast, choosing to live in this slow and simple way is puzzling, if not a complete joke. But is it really? I suppose it is easy to dismiss it as escapism, naivete, or plain laziness looking from the surface. But at its core, the pillar of slow living is simply cultivating meaning in your life.
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