A Slower Rhythm
Life in a big city is a race, and you might not even realize you’re on the track. The entire environment is built for convenience and speed, pushing you to move faster, work harder, and do more.
Freeways are designed to get you from point A to point B as quickly as possible, a blur of concrete and steel. Your calendar is a battlefield of back-to-back meetings, and your phone buzzes with an endless stream of notifications.
Even a simple meal is a sprint: food delivered in 20 minutes, coffee grabbed on the go, lunch breaks spent hunched over a laptop. There’s a constant, low-level hum of anxiety that you mistake for productivity, a pressure to fill every second with action.
This relentless pace leaves no room for stillness, and you spend your life rushing to meet friends, rushing to do the shopping, and rushing to get home, only to collapse in a heap of exhaustion.
This becomes painfully clear when you step away.
On my last visit back to Cape Town, the very first thing that hit me was the speed of the freeway. We don't realize the impact this has on our psyche—hurtling along a road at 120 km/hr, our bodies subtly tense up, a silent, stress-filled reaction to the unreal speed.
Even at that breakneck speed, there were other cars zipping past, people with their own urgent destinations, rushing to a meeting, to pick up children, to get to a show. It felt like I was back on the hamster wheel, and my body was screaming for me to get off.
Moving to this island was like a global pause button.
The frantic energy of the city was replaced by a gentle hum, and the race was over. Here, the entire environment supports a different way of being, a way that can be summed up by a single, beautiful Arabic word: sabr. It's more than just patience; it’s a quiet endurance, a deep acceptance of the present moment.
It took time to adjust.
When we first moved here, I’d get frustrated waiting for the handyman to arrive or the slow traffic. Things happen at a different pace here. People drive at a leisurely 30 km/hr, not because they're being inconsiderate, but because there's simply nowhere to rush to. At first, it felt like an inconvenience. The city part of me wanted to speed things up, but I've learned that you can't force the tide to come in any faster.
My morning ritual is now proof of this profound shift. In the city, a walk was a weekend escape—a planned activity to unplug before the rhythm of the city pulled me back in. Here, it’s a daily practice of immersion.
I step out of my door and within five minutes, my feet are either sinking into the warm, soft sand of the beach or crunching on leaves as I walk through the forest. The air is cool and clean, and the only sounds are the rustle of the trees or the gentle lapping of the waves. It’s not a hurried walk to squeeze in some exercise; it’s a moment of complete stillness.
My connection to nature isn't something I have to plan for. I live it every single day.
Of course, you can try to live a slower life in a big city. You can meditate, take up yoga, or be more mindful of your breathing. But it requires constant, conscious effort to push back against a system built to do the opposite.
On an island like this, the tide is on your side. The pace of life naturally slows down, giving you a chance to breathe, to be present, and to reconnect with a version of yourself that the city had no time for.
And perhaps this is a lesson that people have sought for centuries. Throughout history, great thinkers and spiritual leaders have retreated from the clamour of the world to find quiet and solace. The Prophet Muhammad (SAW) went to the cave of Hira to meditate and contemplate, a place where he ultimately received revelation.
In the modern era, Steve Jobs, at the height of his youthful ambition, dropped out of college and travelled to India in search of spiritual enlightenment. He came back with a shaved head and a new philosophy, deeply influenced by his quest for simplicity and clarity. This experience would ultimately become the driving force behind the simplicity of the legendary Apple design.
Sometimes, the only way to find your true path is to remove yourself from the noise. For me, the relief of being able to drive slowly, wait without worry, and simply be is one of the most rewarding aspects of living here.
It's not something I have to practice anymore; it's just life.