Slow is the New Fast

This morning at breakfast, someone from my volunteering group said this sentence to me after I told him everything I planned to do today — how much I love all these projects, yet how easily I get overwhelmed by the sheer number of things I want to accomplish. And how often I feel like I’m not doing things “right,” or become so intimidated by my own ideas that I either jump to something else or get swallowed by self-doubt and let the idea go.

I told him it has gotten better, and yet this part of me still shows up again and again, loudly.

My list of ideas never gets shorter—quite the opposite. Lately, it has been filling with more and more projects that ideally should have been completed yesterday. In exactly those moments, I want to do everything as quickly as possible, without detours, just to rush to the next project. The result: mentally, I’m always one step ahead of the present moment. And with that comes a great deal of stress and restlessness because the disciplined part of me wants to accomplish it all.

But why this urge for speed?

From my own experience, I know that everything becomes easier and of better quality when I slow down internally and focus on less.

Yet “going slow”—or simply being—is one of my greatest challenges. Especially in creative or multifaceted work, it is essential. And even though I know this in theory, I almost always carry the feeling of not doing enough. When I look back at the past weeks, months, or years, though, I see: there is always so much happening. Inside and outside. Especially inside lately—even if it’s not yet visible outside.

Type A or Type B – and the thing with the inner engine

A few days ago, I was talking with the same volunteer who told me today’s sentence. He mentioned the classic distinction between Type A and Type B personalities. I had never heard of it.

The explanation was simple:

Type A: People who are always planning, doing, achieving, wanting to be productive.

Type B: People who move through the day more calmly and let things unfold.

I had to laugh. I am definitely not Type B — although sometimes I wish I were a little more like that. I admire people who live that ease so naturally.

Afterwards, I looked it up: The types were described in the 1950s/60s by cardiologists Meyer Friedman and Ray Rosenman, who wanted to find out why some people have a higher risk of heart disease.

Type A – the inner engine 

• strong achievement and competition drive 

• constant impatience 

• a permanent sense of time pressure 

• high goal orientation 

• heightened stress responses

Type B – the relaxed counterpart 

• calm 

• allows things to take time 

• less need to constantly achieve 

• more ease in dealing with stress

The model is seen as outdated today, but it still captures something many people immediately recognize—especially those who often feel they’re not doing enough.

The Big Five – a deeper look into personality

Our conversation continued, and he mentioned the Big Five personality model. I only knew it vaguely, so I researched again. The Big Five measure globally consistent personality traits in five dimensions:

• Neuroticism – how easily you feel stress or worry

• Extraversion – energy, activity, sociability

• Openness – creativity, curiosity, imagination

• Agreeableness – empathy, cooperation

• Conscientiousness – structure, discipline, organization

I took a quick test afterwards—and immediately recognized myself.

Again, one theme was at the center: time.

Time – my lifelong challenge

Even as a child, I felt I never had enough time. That thought has stayed with me stubbornly. Even now, without a classic 9-to-5 schedule, it appears again and again and often shapes my days:

• the feeling of being slow

• the feeling of falling behind

• the feeling of not growing quickly enough

• the feeling of not doing enough

And yet, it’s absurd. I experience so much. I learn daily. I write, read, develop ideas, travel, accompany people, discover new perspectives and practices. And still, on days without visible results, I think: I did nothing.

Especially when there is no direct feedback.

I had to learn to do things for the sake of doing them—not for validation, not for money, not for external response.

Where does this pressure come from?

Maybe from the many changes of place in my life—they inspire me, but they don’t root me.

Maybe from the many ideas, projects, visions.

Maybe from my personality combination according to the Big Five:

high openness + high conscientiousness + high emotional sensitivity.

I asked my volunteer friend about his greatest fear.

He said: the fear of having wasted his life. When I asked this question, I was reflecting myself and my greatest fear is something else:

Not having done enough for what I came into this lifetime to do.

Time—or the perceived lack of it—is my greatest opponent.

That’s why doing nothing is so hard for me.

Not reading. Not writing. Not walking. Not working. Not seeking inspiration.Just being.

When was the last time I truly did that? Have I ever?I wondered about that this morning.

When nothing is planned — everything suddenly appears

And yet, I’ve experienced it often, and I’ve read it in countless stories of scientists, artists, innovators: In stillness, the most happens.

Like this morning. I expected nothing. My to-do list was pointing in a completely different direction. But because I allowed myself to drift, suddenly emerged:

• a new book idea

• several themes for my blog

• support for people navigating difficult moments

A lot happened—yet almost nothing visible from the outside.

But the question remains: What drives me so strongly?

Inner drivers, perfectionism, and the art of softening

A while ago, an astrologer told me during a reading, after I shared how much pressure I put on myself:“There really is a lot for you to do in this life.”Not very helpful at the time—but deep inside, I know she’s right.

But then again: How to do it well?

If I can’t enjoy the projects I accomplish, if I never feel like I arrive—what’s the point of becoming faster and faster?

If I never give my ideas time to ripen, or give myself permission to let them, I end up burning out.

So I asked myself:

How can I step out of performance pressure—and into a calmer, clearer, deeper form of productivity?

The “Inner Drivers” test from Transactional Analysis helped. My strongest inner sentences:

• “I must be perfect.”

• “I can’t make mistakes.”

• “I must have everything under control.”

• “I must not disappoint anyone.”

Step one: noticing these voices.

Step two: differentiating real expectations from unrealistic ones.

Helpful questions:

• Does this really need to be perfect?

• What level of quality is actually enough?

• What would I tell a friend in the same situation?

Often, 70–80% is enough. Inside, we aim for 120%.

Then step three: practicing self-compassion. Allowing myself to take breaks. Allowing myself to feel pressure sometimes—maybe that pressure is partly what fuels my creativity and projects.

What helps me in daily life —practically

To handle the many ideas in my mind and truly focus on a few, finishing them instead of jumping to the next:

• Top 3 tasks per day/week/month/years - that are essential for reaching the key goals

→ intentional focus

• The “idea parking lot” → write ideas down but don’t take action immediately

→ frees me from the impulse to do everything at once

For my nervous system, when it starts spinning again, what helps:

• Tapping

• Pranayama (e.g., Kapalabhati, alternate breathing)

• Wim Hof breathing

• Yoga

And in the end?

Allowing myself breaks—knowing they create more, not less.

Not putting so much pressure on myself.

Not constantly feeling I have to perform.

Not being in permanent “function mode,” but consciously pressing pause without immediately restarting the machine.

Recognizing that I may be ambitious without losing myself.

That I may want a lot without doing everything at once.

That I can think big—and still rest deeply.

And most of all: trusting that higher quality arises when I stop standing next to myself with a whip, demanding things to move faster.

Trusting that my path can be lighter.

That I can grow step by step.

And that I am already right in the middle of it.

• Do you know this feeling?

• How do you deal with it?

• What do you think about “Slow is the New Fast”?

• How do you handle pressure?

• And what helps you take action while still staying grounded and calm?