I used to think a day off had to be productive.
I’d catch up on emails, do the grocery shopping, finish some laundry, meet people for brunch or an early dinner and still manage to tick a few things off my to-do list, and somehow convince myself I was “resting.”
But somewhere along the way I realised I wasn’t resting at all.
I was simply being productive in a different way.
These days, I try to protect one or two days each week where I don’t set an alarm. Not because I’m lazy, but because I want to remember what it feels like to wake up when my body is actually ready.
It’s a quiet reminder that not every morning needs to begin with urgency. Somehow we’ve come to see waking naturally as indulgent, when really, sleep is one of the most important ways we support our health. It is our master rhythm, after all.
I’ve learned that when I slow my mornings down, my digestion seems to work better, and the rest of my day tends to follow.
This is what my favourite slow day in Cape Town looks like.
Not because it’s perfect.
But because it’s exactly what my nervous system needs.
One of the biggest gifts I can give myself is not setting an alarm. Some mornings I naturally wake with the sunrise. Other days my body asks for another hour or sometimes three of sleep.
And when I’ve planned a slow morning, I let my body decide when it’s ready to wake. For someone who has spent years living by calendars, schedules, and productivity, waking naturally still feels like a luxury.
Before I check my phone, or even think about what the day might hold, I wander into the kitchen and make myself a glass of hot water and lemon and, after that, a matcha latte. And on the days I do accidentally check my phone too early, I regret it, so leave it!
There is something wonderfully calming about the ritual of making my own matcha.
I measure out the powder, brush it through a sieve, and whisk the matcha until it’s smooth and frothy. Then I add warm macadamia nut milk and wrap both hands around the mug before carrying it outside to my front porch to simply sit.
No podcast and, as much as I can, no WhatsApp or scrolling. Just the quiet sounds of nature and the neighbourhood slowly waking up around me.
It’s one of my favourite moments.
Eventually, I get dressed and head to Sea Point. If it’s a true slow day, breakfast has to feel a little special. Lately, that means Kanela Café and their gluten-free tahini flapjacks.
They’re one of those meals that make you slow down without even trying. Good health-conscious food, an outdoor garden if it’s nice and, most importantly, no rushing, no multitasking. Just savoring the moment.
After breakfast, I’ll wander along the Sea Point Promenade.
I love watching runners, families, cyclists, dogs, tourists, and locals all sharing the same path beside the ocean.
Sometimes I listen to music and sometimes I don’t listen to anything at all.
I’ve noticed that somewhere along that walk, my mind continues to settle and I continue to savor the day. The things that felt so urgent the day before suddenly don’t seem quite as important.
Fresh air has a way of creating perspective.
So does the ocean.
When I get home, I don’t try to squeeze more into the day.
If my body feels tired, I let myself nap.
Not every slow day includes one.
But when it does, I no longer see it as being lazy.
I see it as listening.
For so many of us, rest comes with guilt. I’ve learned that guilt usually says more about our culture than our bodies.
One of my favourite ways to spend a Sunday afternoon is attending the 75-minute Yin Yoga class at the Yoga Loft on Kloof.
People often assume that because I’m a yoga teacher, I always want to teach, but I also love being a student.
As someone who spends so much of my time holding space for others, there’s something incredibly freeing about occasionally letting someone else hold the space for me. Someone else has planned the class, chosen the music, and created the experience. All I have to do is arrive, settle onto my mat, and receive.
Yin Yoga asks very little of me physically, yet gives me so much in return.
After seventy-five minutes of stillness, long-held stretches, and deep breathing, I leave feeling like someone has pressed a reset button on my entire system.
As the day fades into the evening, I pour myself a glass of wine and sit back out on my porch.
The sky changes colour almost every evening in Cape Town, and I never seem to get tired of watching it happen.
There is nowhere else I need to be.
Nothing left to accomplish.
Just a quiet reminder that another day is coming to an end.
When I get hungry, I usually order my favourite sushi from XX and spend the rest of the evening reading, chatting with my husband, or simply enjoying the feeling that nowhere is asking anything from me.
People often ask me how I stay grounded while running a business, teaching, creating content, and juggling all the moving parts of life.
The truth is, I don’t always. I don’t think anyone does.
That’s exactly why I protect days like these.
Of course, a slow day will look different for everyone. It doesn’t necessarily mean an empty calendar or an entire day to yourself. Sometimes it’s simply finding a little more space within the life you already have.
Days like these remind me that my worth isn’t measured by how much I accomplish before lunchtime.
That slowing down isn’t something I need to earn.
And that taking care of my nervous system isn’t another task on my to-do list, it’s what allows me to show up more fully for everything else.
Ironically, I usually return to work on Monday feeling clearer, lighter, more creative, and far more productive than if I’d spent my day trying to squeeze in “just one more thing.”
Sometimes doing less allows us to experience so much more.
And I’ve noticed that the work I produce is more intentional and thoughtful when I’m not constantly pushing through moments of stress.
If you’re looking for more ways to slow down and reconnect with yourself, you might also enjoy:
Sarah Savidge is the founder of Moksha Wellness and an American-born yoga teacher, sound healing practitioner, and health coach now based in Cape Town. With over 10 years of international teaching experience and more than 1,100 hours of training, she helps busy people regulate their nervous systems through yoga, breathwork, meditation, and therapeutic sound.
Experience seven simple daily practices designed to help you feel calmer, move better, and create a sustainable wellbeing ritual.
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