Confessions of a Slow-Living Hustler

The fabled tortoise and hare. Image generated by AI.

I have a two-part confession to make.

Nothing scandalous—no buried bodies or offshore bank accounts. But if we’re going to build trust here, I might as well start with some truth.

Part I: The Non-Expert

I’m not an expert.

When I first looked into blogging, one so-called expert said you only need to know 10% more than your readers. My last post—Live Slower, Look Closer—pretty much exhausted my 10%. If you read it, congrats: you now know as much as I do.

From here on out, we’re learning together. Maybe that makes me a blogging fraud, but honestly—how hard is it to understand slow living? Spoiler: it’s not rocket science, unless your version of slow living involves NASA.

If you stumble on a brilliant junk-drawer decluttering trick or the perfect porch-sitting position, please share. I’ll do my best to toss a few slow-living nuggets your way, too.

Part II: The Hypocrite

I’m also a little bit of a hypocrite.

While I do believe in slowing down to notice the beauty in the everyday, I almost always have two or three side hustles going (Bear Lake Local being one of them). And I like hustle. I like the word. I like what it means. I like being known as a hustler.

Here’s the rub: you don’t get promotions or raises for “slow.” The word “slow” is usually an insult—unless you’re a tortoise who wins races in fables. In real life, you get recognition for hustle. And, truth be told, it feels good.

Now What?

So here’s the conundrum: hustle pays the bills, but slow living is the payoff.

As long as I’ve got a full-time job, my slow moments are limited to nights and weekends. Same for the side hustles. Which means—for now at least—hustle trumps slow.

But maybe the trick isn’t choosing one over the other. We don’t have to be strictly tortoise or strictly hare. We’re humans, and humans are messy and complex. Retired humans may get to simplify (lucky them), but for the rest of us, it’s about noticing when the balance is off.

If hustle leaves you hollow, ease up. If slow starts to feel like stagnation, spark some hustle. Either way, the point is to notice—and then do something about it.

Your Turn

So what about you? Where are you leaning these days—more tortoise or more hare? Drop it in the comments (bonus points if you’ve mastered porch-sitting). Or, if you want something practical: take a moment this week to ask yourself—is hustle crowding out slow, or is slow crowding out hustle? Shift by just 10% and see what happens.