Pottering: The Lost Art of Doing Life at Your Own Pace (Bonus Tip: It helps heal)

I used to move through life like a woman on a scholarship from the University of Efficiency — always forward-leaning (literally, my body tilted ahead of itself), always thinking, always five feet in front of wherever I actually was. Even writing quick answers to emails gave me a hit of adrenaline — like I had to reply right now… or else.

Meanwhile, my house was somehow still a wreck, my to-do list stretched to infinity, and my nervous system was screaming as I careened through my days in a vortex of “do-do-do.”

Looking back, it’s almost funny — how much I spent time being busy while rarely feeling truly productive. I was the queen of multitasking: folding laundry while checking messages, putting away dishes while mentally rearranging my next blog post. My life looked impressive on paper — a steady stream of accomplishments — but in truth, I never seemed to get as much done as my exhaustion promised I should have.

Then came motherhood. It was as if the world looked me straight in the eye and said, You can’t sprint through this one. And wow… that did not sit well with me. Because here’s the thing:
1) Babies don’t care about efficiency — they care about presence.
2) Yet motherhood demands true efficiency — far less time, far more tasks.

That’s when I realized: my nervous system wasn’t built for motherhood. Not yet. It was built for productivity — for proving my worth by how much I could do. My perfectionist (and yes, slightly controlling, ehem) mindset equated movement with meaning. The more I accomplished, the more valuable I felt.

But even as I raced, I was leaving loose ends everywhere. Literally. It became one of our biggest ongoing marriage debates — my husband exasperated that the house looked like a tornado had passed through: jar lids half-closed, shoes everywhere. I’d argue back that I was just too busy — too rushed — to tie up every little detail.

The truth was, the loose ends weren’t just frayed… I was! All that motion… and for what? Was my endless rushing actually helping anything? Not really. It was just noise disguised as progress.

Then one quiet morning, surrounded by toys and dishes and a rare pocket of stillness, I stumbled across a word that stopped me in my tracks: pottering.

And that one word became the beginning of a new rhythm — of living, of healing, and of finally coming home to myself. It helped me immensely, and I think it can help you too.

What Does The Word Pottering Really Mean? A British English Term You Too Can Adopt

Pottering. Even the word itself sounds like a sigh of relief, doesn’t it?

In Britain, to potter is a verb that means to move around in a relaxed way, doing small jobs without any particular plan or urgency. The present participle — pottering — describes that gentle rhythm of movement: the act of simply being involved in ordinary life, in no hurry at all.

Turn rushing through chores into a thoughtful time to infuse love into your nest

It might look like slowly weeding the garden, thoughtfully sewing a button, or rearranging your sock drawer just because it pleases you. It’s the person wandering around the house, humming softly, tending to other things without any need to be seen. It’s doing things slowly, with intention, purely for the pleasure of it.

The word itself is so pleasant — so perfectly British — and yet its wisdom is profound. Pottering is about moving at your own pace, letting the body catch up with the mind, and remembering that rest can be found in motion when the motion is gentle.

But here’s where I began to wonder: In this modern, multitasking, always-on season of motherhood… who actually has the time to potter about “just because”???

I certainly don’t. Between work, kids, meals, and laundry that somehow multiplies like rabbits (seriously, where does all the laundry come from?!), the idea of spending time aimlessly tidying a windowsill felt laughably unrealistic. And yet, the spirit of pottering — that unhurried, intentional quality — spoke to something deep in me.

So I thought: What if I could take this lovely old word and apply it to the things that actually need to get done?

I may not have the luxury to mend a button for the fun of it — but what if I could mend the things that need mending in the same spirit? What if I could find the pleasure in doing life’s many tasks, rather than racing through them?

A year into pottering in this new way, I can tell you this: slowing down, rather than speeding up, has soothed me in ways I can hardly describe (though I’ll try to here). I’m calmer. More grounded. The house is tidier. My brain feels less like a browser with fifty open tabs. And somehow — almost magically — I get more done. Only now, I’m not tired at the end of it.

Pottering as Nervous System Medicine

How is it possible to develop this slower rhythm, and surprisingly get it all done? And without a weeklong break to recover? Let me explain.

Pottering isn’t idleness — it’s intelligent rest. It teaches the body that safety isn’t found in stopping everything, but in moving differently. It’s the difference between rearranging a shelf with focus and appreciation rather than racing through chores like the house is on fire.

For those living with endometriosis — or anyone healing chronic stress — this shift is radical. When you move in a pottering way, your physiology actually changes. Your response softens and muscles unlock from their clenched position (at least mine did). You can breathe with your diaphragm rather than your upper chest. And you start to embody a lovelier, wiser self —one who realizes the work must always be done, but that we, as people, have the right to choose to do the work in sickness (rushed) or in health (intention and vibrancy).

Think of your nervous system like a garden: it doesn’t bloom from intensity. It blooms from steady tending. A potter at the wheel knows this too — spin too fast and the clay flies off. Go slowly, and you make something beautiful.

This is how pottering works: you spend your hours differently, not less meaningfully nor with getting less done (unless you can truly axe some of those to-dos!). You trade rushing and efficiency at all costs for ease, safety, serenity, and content. Sounds nice, huh?

@Thecottagefairy on You Tube is an excellent example of how pottering can look in our everyday. Her videos are a magical sigh of relief :)

Why Pottering Helps with Endometriosis, POTS, Histamine Sensitivity, and MCAS

If you live with endometriosis, POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome), histamine intolerance, or Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS), you know how fragile your internal wiring can feel. The body’s stress pathways, immune responses, and circulatory rhythms are constantly talking to each other — and sometimes, they’re shouting.

Like, really loudly shouting.

When you push too hard, stand too quickly, or live in a constant state of go-go-go, the body interprets that as danger. Heart rate spikes. Blood vessels constrict. Mast cells release inflammatory mediators. Histamine rises. You get dizzy, flushed, anxious, exhausted, itchy.

Here’s the magic: pottering helps retrain that over-alert system. It allows you to move, circulate, and engage — but without flooding the body with adrenaline. Instead of collapsing into stillness (which can sometimes make POTS symptoms worse) or overexerting yourself, you inhabit the middle ground: gentle, rhythmic motion in a safe, embodied state.

When you potter around the house, you keep blood moving without stress. When you spend time tending the garden, folding clothes, or putting things away slowly, you teach your nervous system to associate motion with calm. Making fresh food with fresh ingredients (much more "work" than throwing in a microwave dinner) becomes a chance to actually use your body and focus, meditate even, rather than collapse. Over time, this steadiness can lower baseline histamine levels, reduce reactivity, and help the body trust movement again.

For many with MCAS and histamine sensitivity, nervous system regulation is the missing piece. Mast cells respond to perceived threat as much as actual allergens. So when you live in chronic fight-or-flight, your mast cells live there too — releasing chemicals to match your mental state.

Pottering offers the antidote. It’s slow. Predictable. Gentle. Safe. It grounds you in your body and reminds your physiology: You’re okay now. You can rest while moving.

Holidays Pottering: The Rebellion Against Oncoming Rush

Reclaim the holidays by enjoying all the pieces that can slip by too quickly!

I thought a post about this near the holidays could be helpful— that time of year when we tell ourselves it’s all about peace and joy, but somehow end up over-scheduled, overtired, and over it. Between travel, little shop errands, and late-night wrapping (or wine drinking) marathons, most of us don’t even remember the last time we truly breathed.

But what if this year, you chose holidays pottering instead?

Imagine it: you spend time meandering through a shop in town, wandering at your own pace, buying one small, thoughtful thing. You stop for a slow lunch with a dear friend— not because you earned it, but because you’re alive.You watch people laugh in the café window, you stare at the twinkling lights, you feel guilty for none of it.

Or maybe your day looks like baking cookies while music plays, or rearranging ornaments with your kids until someone eats half the cookie dough. Heck, you even laugh about the cookie dough being eaten rather than scolding! You’re not rushing. You’re pottering through the holidays, reclaiming the season as something wonderful, not weary.

When you potter through November and December, you don’t just decorate your house — you decorate your nervous system with calm and bring meaning back to celebration.

Bringing Stillness Into the Doing: A few suggestions

For so long, I thought rest meant stopping. But now I know it can mean doing things at a different pace — slower, gentler, wiser. Pottering turned my rushed routines into moments of regulation. Folding towels became meditation, doing the dishes a chance to infuse my maternal energy into the house, writing this blog even--a chance to reconnect to my soul that loves to engage with the written word!

I often think of it as emotional tai chi—the process of moving through life with intention instead of intensity. You still do the tasks—wash, wipe, write, work—but the energy behind them shifts. You spend time with yourself instead of against yourself. Here are a few things that have helped me actually enjoy this slower way of living:

1. Reduce the noise.
Engage with screens far less than you think you “need” to. Truly. I know that sounds radical in our digital age, but the constant buzz of notifications hijacks the nervous system before we even notice it. When you step back from the urge to “check”—Instagram, messages, news—you give your brain permission to. just. be.

I’ve found that when I’m not scrolling, I can move through my ten daily tasks with integrity—starting and finishing each one fully. No half-done emails, no half-folded laundry, no half-listening to my children while I multitask. And far less marital disputes to boot ;)

2. Mind your mind while you move.
Pottering is not just about what you do, but how you think while doing it. Try to move through your day without the anxious mind taking over—without judging, ruminating, replaying arguments, or solving everyone else’s problems in your head.

The goal is to do everyday things with neutrality—or even quiet joy—rather than letting your thoughts run muddy laps through every corner of your house. If silence feels hard, offer your brain something gentle to rest on: an audiobook, soft music, birdsong, or a comforting old story. Just… no health podcasts or news briefs, please. Those have their place, but not when you’re trying to rewire your sense of safety.

3. Create a rhythm, not a regimen.
Pottering is not about perfection or rigid schedules. That’s what gets us into troublw! Rather, it’s about finding a rhythm that feels good for you. Give yourself permission to wander a little between tasks, to follow a pleasant thread of curiosity—clean the dishes, make the bed, then sit with tea for a few minutes. Let each action close before the next one opens. This small loop of completion is one of the most soothing gifts you can give your nervous system.

The Meaning Hidden in the Mundane

What I love most about pottering is that it restores a sense of belonging. For years, I tried to fill my days sprinting not just between tasks, but between stages of life! In high school so focused on college. While in college so focused on after-college and career. While in young adult land and sick and infertile, sprinting for health and babies. Once holding a baby, sprinting to get out of the chose of young motherhood.

A lovely song that reminds us there is magic in the mundane

I thought that if I did enough, gave enough, got through it all fast enough, maybe I could finally feel settled inside my own skin. But all the while, I was missing the very thing I claimed to be fighting for: the ability to enjoy this magical and amazing world we already live in. Now, I want to instill that magic back into my own body — and into the little bodies of my children. I don’t want to rush through it all and miss it all in the process!

Because the most magical moments, I’ve learned, are the small ones.
- The little hands that want to hold mine, even if I have things “to do”
- The warm mug between my palms in the quiet mornings before anyone else is awake.
- The giggling toddler sneaking cookie dough from the bowl, cinnamon in the air.
- The sunlight scattered across the floorboards of my house — a forever-favorite image of mine.
- Writing simply for the pleasure it brings me (and it’s truly a pleasure to write about pottering)

See, when you begin to notice these simple things, you stop sprinting through life trying to arrive somewhere else. You realize… you’re already there. And perhaps that’s the real miracle. When you potter, you don’t just tidy your surroundings — you tidy your energy. You smooth the creases in your nervous system. You spend time differently — not paid in output, but in peace.

So consider this post your gentle invitation to potter — through your house, your garden, your job, your parenting, your healing, all of it — with the same care you’d offer a dear friend. Let your present moments be the gifts you unwrap.

Because in a world that worships speed, pottering might just be the most rebellious, most brilliant, and most healing thing you ever do.