Slower, On Purpose

A Shift Toward Stewardship

There’s a point...sometimes it sneaks up, other times it hits all at once. When the noise fades, a different rhythm takes over. A pull toward the garden, toward animals, and toward your own land. It doesn’t always have a name, but it comes with weight. And what we call it may help to process this change.

Words May Matter

Putting a name to something helps clarify what it is. Slowing down isn’t failure. It’s often the most deliberate choice a person can make. When you define this season as a shift, or simply a change in focus, it becomes easier to own it. You’re not walking away. You’re stepping into something else. 

Terms & Their Roots

People have tried to give this shift a name. Some of those terms might feel unfamiliar, but they carry cultural or sentimental weight:

• Second Bloom
  Used to describe a period of rediscovery-often later in life-where joy is found in simplicity and hands-on living. It’s about finding new energy for old values.

• Season of Stillness / Solitude
  Reflects a time aligned with nature’s quiet cycles. Winter doesn’t mean nothing’s happening. It just looks different from the outside.

• Rewilding the Self
  A phrase borrowed from ecological work, now applied to people stepping back from over-structured living. It’s less about chaos and more about realignment with natural patterns.

• The Hermit Phase
  Comes from literature and archetype, especially the Hermit in tarot. It’s about intentional solitude-not running away, but looking inward to move forward.

• Earthkeeper Stage
  This one shows up in Indigenous and ecological circles. It’s less about age or profession and more about perspective: the land isn’t a resource, it’s a relationship.

You may not connect with any of these exactly, but you might recognize the impulse behind them.

What These Terms Might Mean to Others

To others, these terms might sound poetic or vague. But scratch the surface, and there’s depth:

• Culturally, they echo traditions where age and experience are tied to land, not legacy brands.

• Emotionally, they often mark a turning point-less noise, more intention.

• Socially, they might look like withdrawal, but they’re often more about choosing what (and who) you show up for.

None of this is trendy. It’s been around longer than the internet. But naming it makes it visible again.

What It Means to Me

For me, it’s stewardship.

Not in the performative sense, but in the day-to-day details: tending to what feeds you, noticing what needs repair, honoring what lasts. I’ve turned my time and energy toward soil, seasons, and the animals in my care, not out of nostalgia, but because it’s where the real work is.

I don’t need a label. But I do see the value in giving language to this shift, especially for those standing on the edge of it, wondering if it’s okay to step away from the scroll and into something slower.

As Mark Twain once wrote: “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

That quote stays with me. It reinforces my decision to commit fully to Storey’s in the Dirt and life on the farm. Sometimes the shift isn’t just philosophical—it’s a real, concrete choice about how to spend your life.

Conclusion: Define It for Yourself

If you’re feeling it, name it. You don’t have to explain it, justify it, or package it.

But calling it what it is, a turning point, a return, a beginning, might help you move through it with clarity. And it might help others recognize they’re not alone.

This is a season worth naming. Not for marketing. For meaning.