Underrated Luxury: An Unhurried Life

With nothing to prove and no urgency of feeling rushed.

Although I am an early bird, believe it or not, there are times when I sleep in. Now granted, “sleeping in” for me means lingering in bed an extra hour, because unless I’m sick, it's a Sunday or I'm just listening to my body say NO- I’m bout always outta bed NLT 0800a.

But lately I’ve been thinking about a kind of luxury that doesn’t require a reservation, a shopping bag, or money to spend.

Time.

I know, I know, I know. The hours in a day can feel like currency, and they can become quite expensive when we don’t manage them well. But hear me out.

There is a wealth in life that costs you nothing: an unhurried moment.

For me, that can look like opening the blinds and letting the morning light flood the room.

And let me just say this: I. Hate. Blackout. Curtains. Morning light helps set my internal clock, and my body naturally gets up with the sunrise. Dim, dark rooms make me feel moody and SAD. Like, damn...are we vampires?

I like bright. I like airy. I like letting the light in.

My home feels especially calm in the morning, and I intentionally allow myself to experience that calm before the rest of the world starts withdraws from my bank. Becuz let's be clear-the world does TAKE what you allow it to.

Fresh air. A fragrant room mist. A candle burning. Jazz playing softly in the background while I take my time with my grooming routine.

Nothing urgent. Nothing demanding my attention.

Just me, easing into the day.

And while we’re talking about candles, stop saving them.

Light the candle.

My favorite candle companies: Elevated Scentz and Lene Nicole

Tuesday needs ambiance too.

Morning, random Tuesday afternoon, dinner, while you’re in the shower, before bed...it doesn't matter. We have a funny habit of saving beautiful things for some imaginary “special occasion,” as if ordinary Tuesday isn't worthy of a little luxury.

Stop saving the good stuff. Living in abundance will also teach you this.

The same goes for time.

Say no.

Not every invitation needs a yes. Not every request requires immediate access to you. Not every empty space in your calendar needs to be filled.

Because you can refill a coffee cup.

You can replace a candle.

You can buy another outfit.

You cannot refill time.

And I’ve become increasingly protective of the empty spaces in my day because I’m realizing that doing less on purpose can actually give me more.

More room to think.

More room to notice.

More room to breathe.

Sometimes that means taking a shower without music, podcasts, or something playing in the background. Just water, quiet and my own thoughts.

Sometimes it means taking a brisk walk for twenty minutes or an hour, whether it’s first thing in the morning or somewhere in the middle of the day. I’ve experimented with leaving my phone behind, too, and my goodness...

I come back home feeling invigorated, calmer, and full of new ideas where I see new opportunities everywhere.

Ideas that I will probably be too lazy to do or even post, but that's beside the point.

There is something about open skies and a little uninterrupted time that allows my nervous system to settle. It reminds me that I don’t always have to be entertained, productive or reachable.

There is nothing to prove and nowhere urgent to be.

And maybe that's part of the luxury we don't acknowledge.

I can sit on my balcony with my coffee and actually enjoy it. Not gulp it down while checking emails. Not answer messages between sips. Not immediately start mentally running through everything I need to accomplish.

Just coffee.

The scenery.

The morning air and engaging in the emotions.

Even the way I eat has become part of this unhurried life for me.

I prefer to dine in vs take out. So when I cook at home-

I may sound extra bougie for this buuuut...I don't do paper plates and plastic cups.

I like a real plate. A real glass. A cloth napkin.

And yes, I use cloth napkins instead of paper towels for meals because there is something different about sitting down and making an ordinary meal feel like an occasion.

When you slow down enough to actually experience it, ordinary things begin to feel like abundance.

That, to me, is underrated luxury.

Even when I’m working from home, I’ve started resisting the urge to check emails before I’m officially working. Because just because I can access work doesn't mean I need to invite work into the opening moments of my day.

My morning belongs to me first.

And perhaps that's the real indulgence of an unhurried life.

It isn't about having more time than everyone else. It's about being intentional with the time you do have.

Doing one thing fully instead of half-azzing five things at once.

Leaving some white space on the calendar.

Letting the morning light in.

Lighting the candle on a Tuesday or before bed.

Taking the walk.

Sitting quietly.

Saying no.

Drinking the coffee while it's still hot.

An unhurried life allows me to taste my coffee instead of gulping it, because I’ve decided that the opening of my day deserves to belong to me **sings I Belong To You**, on purpose.

And honestly?

That sounds like luxury to me.

Until the next pour, darling...take your time. **singing** Don't rush baby, the coffee ain't going nowhere, slow it dooooown. ☕️