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Slow Living vs. Smart Homes: Are We Automating Ourselves Out of Presence?

Smart home interface with a handwritten to-do list nearby – balance of analog and digital

The other day, I walked into a friend’s home and watched as her voice activated the lights, her app-controlled coffee machine whirred to life, and her robot vacuum quietly began its choreographed routine. It was impressive. But I couldn’t shake a subtle discomfort—a feeling that the house was alive, but the people inside weren’t entirely present.

In our race toward convenience, have we overlooked something essential? The smell of freshly ground coffee, the gentle clink of dishes, the quiet pause before bedtime—all replaced by automation. This isn’t an anti-tech manifesto, but rather an invitation to pause and ask: Is our pursuit of efficiency pulling us away from the magic of the mundane?

The rise of smart home technology has been praised for streamlining life. But for those of us on a slow living journey, it raises an important question: Are we automating ourselves out of presence? In this article, we’ll explore how digital convenience intersects with intentional living and what it means to choose soul over speed in the age of artificial ease.

A few years ago, I bought a smart speaker to help manage my to-do list. It worked—maybe too well. Within days, it had taken over the music, the reminders, and even the ambient sounds I used to create manually. It was helpful, yes. But over time, it replaced the small rituals I cherished: flipping through records, lighting a candle to signal the start of evening, writing tasks in a planner.

Smart home technology promises ease. And in many ways, it delivers. Automated thermostats save energy. Voice assistants streamline shopping. Security cameras offer peace of mind. But these conveniences can come at a cost: the loss of embodied experience.

Slow living invites us to engage all five senses, to be fully present with our environments, and to welcome slowness as a form of nourishment. When we delegate these moments to machines, we often disconnect from the very practices that ground us.

“Technology should support the human experience—not replace it.”

Digital minimalism, a growing movement led by thinkers like Cal Newport, urges us to strip back unnecessary tech use to make space for more meaningful living. Yet ironically, smart home technology often demands more digital engagement, not less.

To manage a smart home, we often rely on dozens of apps, ongoing updates, and near-constant connectivity. Instead of simplifying our lives, we become stewards of a complex digital ecosystem.

One client I worked with shared her experience of installing a smart fridge. “I thought it would help me meal plan,” she explained. “But I found myself checking the app constantly. I was more distracted than before.”

Digital minimalism isn’t about rejecting all tech. It’s about choosing tech that serves us—not enslaves us. As part of a slow living digital detox, it might mean opting out of devices that blur the line between convenience and dependency.

In contrast, manual tasks—like chopping vegetables or hanging laundry—can offer meditative moments that foster presence.

So how do we find balance? It begins with mindful technology use—asking ourselves not just what a device does, but what it replaces.

Before adding a new gadget to your home, consider:

For example, a sunrise alarm clock may support a gentle start to your day, while a fully automated morning sequence might rob you of those quiet, transitional moments.

Start by reclaiming one ritual:

These shifts aren’t regressive. They’re revolutionary acts of awareness in a culture of speed.

“Presence doesn’t require perfection—it only asks for our attention.”

There’s a beauty to doing things the slow way. Sweeping the floor instead of programming a robot vacuum. Opening windows for airflow rather than triggering an AI-powered air purifier.

Slow homemaking is not about shunning modernity—it’s about aligning our spaces with our values. It’s choosing linen curtains that breathe, hand-washed dishes that invite calm, or analog clocks that ground us in the moment.

The benefits of slow living extend beyond the individual. They ripple into our relationships, our communities, and even the planet. Reducing reliance on tech reduces energy consumption, e-waste, and our collective addiction to the new.

This doesn’t mean eliminating all tech. It means curating it. Using tools that support embodiment rather than detachment. It’s about honoring the human hands behind the machine.

When we choose presence over productivity, we create homes that feel alive—not just efficient.

We’re at a cultural crossroads. Never before has life been so optimized, and yet so many feel burned out, disconnected, and numb. Our homes—once places of grounding—now buzz with alerts, syncs, and smart sensors.

The appeal of slow living lies in its promise to reclaim time. To restore attention. To bring us back to the textures of our lives.

According to research, young adults are actively trying to reduce screen time and reconnect with analog routines. Many cite burnout, overstimulation, and longing for simplicity as their reasons.

This is the moment to ask: Are we outsourcing too much? In our bid to simplify, have we complicated the one thing we long for most—presence?

Authors like Jenny Odell (How to Do Nothing) and Carl Honoré (In Praise of Slow) echo this urgency. They argue that attention is our most precious resource—and that tech, unchecked, can erode it.

The mindful use of smart home technology is possible—but it begins with awareness. We must become stewards of our space again, not just users of it.

“Automation without intention is just another form of disconnection.”

As we move forward, the goal isn’t to discard our gadgets. It’s to use them with heart.

Your next decision could shape how you feel in your home. Will that new device draw you closer to your life—or further from it?

Start small:

These are not nostalgic gestures. They are blueprints for living well.

The future of slow living is not anti-tech. It’s pro-intention. And in that balance, we find not just ease—but meaning.

“The slower we move, the deeper we feel. And the deeper we feel, the more alive we become.”

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