utah girl in nash
website

Time Grows in the Slow Down

—

As I sit in the slowness,
listening to the calm,
I feel the contrast of a life that is gone
a life once lived in constant motion.

Busy every moment,
not because it had to be,
but because I made it so.

Time was something to fill.
If I found a few free hours,
my mind rushed to claim them.

Stillness felt unfamiliar.
Sitting with myself felt unnatural.
As if time without productivity
meant something was missing.

If I wasn’t producing,
what was I worth?
If a moment didn’t lead somewhere,
what was it for?

Rest felt uncomfortable.
Being still felt unfamiliar.
I always had to be becoming
achieving,
moving.

And then I realized
it was never ambition.
It was proof.

Proof that my time mattered.
Proof that I mattered.

But all it proved
was how little space I gave myself
to slow down.

Now, I wake and walk outside.
I feel the sun.
I watch my breath rise in the cold.
Birds call.
Squirrels leap between trees.

The wind meets my cheeks.
My steps are slow.
My mind is quiet.

And I remember
all we really have
is time.

We lose it when we rush.
We feel it
when we don’t.

And when we slow down enough to notice,
life stops passing by
and lets us live it.

The moments magnify.
Time grows in the slow down.

Leave a comment

● About Me

I’m Heather Dyan Morgan, a writer, speaker, and podcast host who left behind everything I knew to start over from scratch.
Literally the definition of wandering the wild mess.

Born and raised in Utah (yes, I grew up Mormon), I walked away from the only life I had ever known—including a good man who simply wasn’t meant for me, and moved to Tennessee with no friends, no family, and no place to call home. I had spent over a decade climbing the corporate ladder, and one day I simply told my boss: “I’m moving. Keep me or don’t.”

A little wild? Maybe. But I’ve always felt like a caged bird waiting to be free.
And once I finally jumped, there was no turning back.

Those early months, bouncing between Airbnbs, navigating heartbreak, identity shifts, and deep solitude, were more than a leap. They were a rebirth.
And somehow, they became the beginning of everything.

Now I share my journey through my podcast (Wandering the Wild Mess), I’m working on an aligned project of digital healing guides, and continue to pour into the written word—because storytelling has always been my way of making sense of the chaos and helping others feel less alone in theirs.

I’ve been writing since I could hold a pencil and asking deep questions since I could form a sentence. I’m endlessly curious about the human experience—how we think, feel, and move through this world. I believe we don’t fail; we just evolve.

I’m here to remind you that it’s okay not to have it all figured out. You’re allowed to grow, grieve, start over, and still be wildly worthy of love and joy.

I enjoy deep conversations, acoustic music, mountain views, and campfire moments that make you feel something. And I believe that if you’re reading this, you’re here for a reason.

Thanks for being part of my wild mess. Let’s wander it together.

And in case no one told you today—you matter

● Recent Articles