Essay 05— Permission to Slow Down
Every morning starts roughly the same way for me.
I wake up to my sunlight alarm clock, brush my teeth, make a coffee (a ritual in itself thanks to the espresso machine), and sit down on the bench in my coffee nook to play some brain games and study for about fifteen minutes. Usually that fifteen minutes stretches into an hour. Sometimes I'm inside. Sometimes I'm in the backyard when it isn't too hot.
Then I get ready for the day.
In the evenings, I have a pretty systematic wind-down ritual as well.
The daily rituals vary a bit here and there. One day I may decide I want maté. Another day it might be a London Fog or a dirty chai. The specifics change.
The ritual remains.
We all have rituals whether we realize it or not.
I've been thinking about this a lot recently while designing a steam shower for a client.
We're placing a large window inside the steam shower. The room overlooks a mountain and you feel like you're on top of the world when you're there. Why not capitalize on the view?
The northern light allows for a large window without turning the glass shower into a heat bubble. We would be foolish not to take advantage of it.
We're placing a large bench directly beneath the window. Not because the client needs somewhere to sit (well, that too...), but because the space is asking for it. The view is asking for it. The steam is asking for it.
The entire room is designed to beckon you to sit down, relax, and enjoy the solitude.
The design we're creating is one that gives permission.
Permission to linger.
Permission to look outside.
Permission to relax.
Permission to spend an extra five minutes.
And the more I've thought about it, the more I've realized that good design supports our rituals. I've always known it, but it's fun when a new puzzle (project) enters the picture and we're reminded all over again.
Good design invites and gives permission to partake in these little rituals. It may even create them.
The funny thing is that most people don't recognize their rituals because they're moving too fast.
From one thing to the next.
Not to mention all the scrolling.
Our attention spans are moving a mile a minute and we often do more than one thing at once. How are we even expected to notice the rituals we perform every day?
Or maybe people know they always do things a certain way, but they've never stopped to consider that those patterns are something you can design around.
Something you can make easier, and something you can optimize.
For most people, you can't simply ask:
"What are your daily rituals?"
They'll look at you with a blank stare.
Of course they have them.
But in that moment they've all disappeared from memory.
You almost have to ask differently.
What happens between waking up and leaving the house?
What happens before bed?
Where do you drink your coffee?
Where do you take your vitamins?
Where do you sit when you need a moment alone?
The answers are usually hidden inside ordinary routines.
The same thing happens with objects.
The objects people value most are often the ones they use most frequently.
Not because they're expensive or rare. But because they're woven into a ritual.
Some of my favorite objects are an A24 mug, my espresso machine, the bench I sit on every morning, a cheap compact mirror I use to apply mascara, and my gua sha tool.
The mirror is important because it saves me from bending across the counter while getting ready.
The gua sha serves a very specific purpose. I have pretty intense TMJ issues and it helps keep it at bay. Passes across my neck, jawline, cheekbones, temples, and eyebrows are part of my daily routine.
None of these objects are important because they're objects.
They're important because they participate in a ritual.
And rituals keep us sane.
They bring joy to small moments.
But many people spend a lot of time chasing happiness through purchases.
I think the purchase isn't actually what they're after.
Maybe they're seeking comfort.
Grounding.
Rhythm.
Routine.
Stability.
These are all things rituals naturally provide.
We used to spend more time gathering ingredients, cooking meals, cleaning up afterward, building fires, and sitting together in conversation.
Now there are shortcuts for almost everything.
Convenience is wonderful. I'm not arguing against it.
But I do wonder if we've accidentally erased some important rituals along the way.
And perhaps when those rituals disappear, we go searching for something else to replace them.
Good design has the ability to support rituals that already exist.
It can also create new ones.
Clients often tell us about the frustrations they have with their homes without ever describing their rituals directly.
But hidden inside those frustrations are clues.
A towel hook that's too far from the shower.
A coffee station that lives on the opposite side of the house.
No place to sit and read.
No place to gather.
No place to downshift.
Personally, I hate having a gust of cold air blowing directly on me while I'm brushing my teeth. It's too loud of a sensory experience.
If I'm soaking in a bathtub, I shouldn't have a cold air vent aimed directly at me either.
And for the love of everything that is good and pure in this world, if you have the opportunity to put a laundry room on an exterior wall, please do it.
And if the laundry room is on an exterior wall, give it a window.
Laundry is already a chore. Why must we make it depressing too?
All of these tiny decisions matter.
They either create friction or remove friction.
They either support a ritual or interrupt it.
People often travel to less wealthy nations and come home saying:
"They have so little but seem so happy."
Why is that?
Maybe because richness and ritual are not the same thing as wealth.
A modest home with strong rituals can feel incredibly rich.
A beautiful home with no rituals can still feel empty.
The best objects aren't valuable because they're beautiful.
They're valuable because they make moving through life a little easier.
A little gentler.
A little slower.
A good home supports your rituals.
A good home allows for your rituals.
A good home gives us permission to slow down.
