Rediscovering Presence in a Culture of Speed
A slower, more connected pace is what we crave fundamentally; our default is presence. — Sarie Taylor
—What lingers after this line?
One-minute reflection
Where does this idea show up in your life right now?
The Claim Beneath the Quote
Sarie Taylor’s line argues that what many people call “productivity” or “progress” can quietly override something more essential: a steady, grounded sense of being here. By saying we “crave” a slower, more connected pace, she frames slowness not as a luxury but as a fundamental human need. From that starting point, the phrase “our default is presence” pushes further. It suggests that distraction and rush are not our natural state so much as learned habits—layers added on top of an underlying capacity to notice, to feel, and to relate in real time.
Why Speed Frays Connection
Once life accelerates, connection often becomes transactional: messages replace conversations, updates replace understanding, and efficiency replaces attentiveness. In that climate, relationships can start to feel like tasks to complete rather than people to encounter, and even solitude becomes crowded with noise. That is why Taylor links pace with connection. Slowness creates the conditions for depth—pauses where you can ask a better question, hear what someone actually means, or recognize what your own body is signaling before you override it to keep moving.
Presence as the Baseline, Not the Achievement
Taylor’s most provocative move is treating presence as the default setting. This aligns with older contemplative traditions that treat attention as trainable but also intrinsic; for example, Buddhist teachings on mindfulness describe returning to the breath as a return to what is already available, not the invention of a new self. Seen this way, the goal is less about adding yet another self-improvement project and more about subtracting what obscures awareness. Instead of striving to “be present” like a performance metric, the practice becomes remembering what it feels like when you stop abandoning the moment.
The Nervous System’s Vote for Slowness
Bringing the idea into the body, a slower pace often corresponds to physiological safety: breathing deepens, muscles unclench, and the mind stops scanning so urgently for the next demand. When people describe feeling “back in themselves,” they are often describing a shift from chronic activation to regulation. This is where connection becomes not only social but internal. As the pace eases, it’s easier to detect subtle emotions—grief, gratitude, fatigue, delight—that speed tends to flatten. Presence, then, is not just attention to the world but renewed contact with one’s own inner signals.
Small Human Moments That Prove the Point
The evidence for Taylor’s claim often shows up in ordinary scenes: a meal where phones stay out of reach, a walk without earbuds, a conversation where nobody is rushing to conclude. These moments can feel disproportionately nourishing because they restore continuity—between thought and feeling, between person and person. Even brief “micro-pauses” can have this effect. Waiting for the kettle to boil and simply watching steam rise can reintroduce the nervous system to stillness. From there, connection becomes easier, because you’re no longer arriving at others already fragmented.
Choosing a Connected Pace on Purpose
If presence is the default, then the practical question becomes what repeatedly pulls us away from it and how we can re-enter it without drama. That might look like building margins into the day, protecting single-task time, or creating rituals that slow transitions—closing a laptop before speaking to family, or taking three breaths before replying to a tense message. Ultimately, Taylor’s sentence reads like an invitation: treat slowness not as falling behind, but as returning home. With a more connected pace, attention stops scattering, and presence—quietly, naturally—reasserts itself as what we were built for.