Slowing down to find my own academic speed

By Fátima Sal, PGR Intern for Research Staff Events, and PhD candidate in International Law.

As a first-year PhD student and intern with the Research Culture and Researcher Development Team, I have found clarity in returning to slow-living embodied practices that foster attentiveness, care, and presence. In this blog, I reflect on how embracing slowness, community, and cultural identity has reshaped my approach to academic life—and offer gentle suggestions for how others might cultivate more intention and connection in their own research journeys.

Intention rather than urgency

I arrived in Glasgow in September 2024 to begin my PhD in International Law. Almost immediately, I found myself swept into a rhythm I hadn’t chosen. In the same month, I applied to different internships, and I was offered one in the Research Culture and Researcher Development team. While exciting, the pressure I felt to balance both commitments brought back familiar racing thoughts and the quiet fear that I wouldn’t be able to manage it all.

That’s when I encountered the philosophy of slowness (Honoré, 2004). As someone naturally energetic and driven, the term felt unfamiliar—almost intimidating. Yet, the more I explored it, the more it captivated me. I was struck by how closely it aligned with some of my own emerging interests. Rooted in a holistic appreciation of food, cities, art, and travel, it also extended—unexpectedly—to slow writing, slow reading, and slow learning (Ulmer, 2017).  It stood in sharp contrast to how I had previously worked, disrupting ingrained assumptions about speed, productivity, and value. This slow orientation challenged the premise that efficiency must always come at the expense of well-being (Odell, 2019).

I created space—for academia, the internship, my health, and myself. I carved out breaks and personal time: slow-cooked meals, listening and dancing to Fulani rock, Gregory Porter, Harry Belafonte, and Bob Marley’s Stiff-Necked Fools (Ulmer, 2017). These weren’t indulgences but incubators—spaces where creative sparks could emerge and guide my writing, reading, and thinking. None of this happened when I was moving faster, caught in political and social conditioning that equated busyness with productivity (Odell, 2019).

Embracing connection in the PhD journey

I have long valued my solitude—often finding peace in quiet spaces and time to think. Through my internship, I began to realise that true academic growth isn’t found only in isolated independence. It also comes when we lean into community and allow ourselves to ask for help. From the outset, I began rediscovering support and the quiet power of asking for help (hooks, 1994) while organising the Research Staff Assembly. Weekly intern meetings, shared planning documents, and task management tools allowed me to coordinate better and build structure around my work. These small tools built my confidence. I found myself increasingly comfortable seeking feedback on drafts, exchanging ideas, and embracing the collaborative energy of peer-to-peer moments. Where once I might have seen asking for help as a burden on others, I now understand it as an act of connection—and perhaps even trust (Honoré, 2004).

Working in the Advanced Research Centre (ARC) has placed me at the centre of many meaningful activities. I have a better understanding of institutional structures, but more importantly, it has connected me to others whose encouragement and example awakened new curiosities in me (Ulmer, 2017). One such curiosity led to the creation of a peer-to-peer writing retreat, co-organised with my colleague (and previous Research Culture and Researcher Development Intern) Paola Alarcón López from the School of Law. Inspired by the researcher development ethos, we invited other PhD students in the College of Social Sciences to join us in shared writing sessions. These retreats became quiet powerhouses—spaces of solidarity, focus, and mutual care. They reflect the kind of community-driven culture we often talk about in theory but rarely have time to build (hooks, 1994).

Weaving identity into academic life

As my internship has progressed, I have found my own heritage quietly shaping my approach (Tuck and Yang, 2012). The Fulani ethos—known as pulaaku—encourages dignity, patience, self-restraint, and grace (Diop, 1987). This mindset inspired me to lead a new version of an existing development initiative – ‘Walk, Talk, Connect with Poetry’, a mindful walking session designed to encourage slower, richer conversations. That event helped me to see how heritage in practice can shape research culture—how a seemingly personal philosophy can speak to collective well-being (Parks, 2010).

For example, the idea for a collective, on campus ‘Coffee Connect’ session (a monthly event usually taking place between individual pairs) emerged during a meeting with my supervisor. Their quiet confidence in my ideas gave me the motivation to initiate and host it. Creating that session reminded me that I’m capable not just of producing academic work, but of enjoying the act of self-discovery that comes with it. Hosting the community Coffee Connect event gave me a new sense of self-reliance—and reminded me how much joy can be found in crafting spaces where others feel welcome (hooks, 1994).

My internship has also supported the development of key academic skills. I was recently preparing for my first presentation on my PhD project at the EURAC Summer Institute. With guidance from the team, I have grown more confident using digital presentation tools, learned to pace myself, and received feedback that helped me refine my delivery. By the time I spoke in front of an international, interdisciplinary audience, I felt both clear and grounded—something I could not have claimed a few months earlier (hooks, 1994).

Returning to basics

My internship has not simply been a professional opportunity. It has become a practice of integration—between heritage and higher education, between solitary work and shared spaces, between independence and interdependence. It has taught me that slowing down is a meaningful strategy, that seeking support extends my capability, and that research culture is about creating environments where researchers can flourish. Through this, I’ve learnt to care more, connect more, and carry my values into every corner of my academic and professional life (Lorde, 2017).

Slow scholarship has taught me that insight is not always born of speed or constant productivity (Ulmer, 2017). Instead, ideas often emerge during pauses—while walking, sketching, or simply observing the world around me (Parks, 2010). These practices are not escapes from academic work, but essential parts of it. They reconnect me with the intuitive rhythms of research that prioritise presence over pressure (Honoré, 2004).

In your own time, in your own way

Slowing down has helped me rediscover joy, clarity, and connection within academic life. If any of this resonates with you, I encourage you to explore what ‘slow’ might look like in your own context—whether it’s a quiet morning walk, an unhurried conversation, or simply allowing yourself to pause without guilt. Embracing slowness isn’t about doing less, but about doing things with intention, presence, and care. You might be surprised by what emerges when you give yourself the space to breathe.