Member-only story
What the Desert Taught Me About Slowing Down
In a world that doesn’t stop
There is a moment, standing on the edge of the Sahara at night, with only the stars for light, when the world falls completely silent.
A quiet calm settles over me.
Three days in the Moroccan desert — hours from the buzz of Marrakesh — leave me with a clarity I haven’t felt in years. The last time was in the Las Vegas desert, building mud homes during a summer in college. Back then, the world was locked down, and silence was forced upon us. Here, it is freely given.
The desert is empty.
Open.
Vast.
Still.
Nothing to do.
Nothing next.
Back in the city, I step onto the street. A car horn screams. Someone yells into their phone. A notification pings. Just like that, I’m back. A morning meeting. My phone. Next meeting. Phone. Next appointment. Next item on the to-do. Phone. Then party. Then phone. Next day. Phone buzzes.
I reach for my phone. I don’t think — I just move.
Seventeen notifications. Three apps asking me to rate my experience. Did I enjoy my coffee? My Uber ride?
