What Season 2 of With Love, Meghan Reveals About the Power of Slow Living?
True wealth has little to do with numbers, titles, or square footage. It is measured instead in time: time to walk without urgency, to cook without haste, to linger over stories told around a table. The most intentional lives are not the busiest ones, but those that make space for what is unhurried. This is why the philosophy of slow living has long been cherished by those who understand refinement at its deepest. Not the refinement of display, but of rhythm. To live slowly is to choose deliberately, to honour the texture of each day.
In the second season of With Love, Meghan, glimpses of this truth appear—though they are not the point of the show, they resonate quietly between its conversations. A simple apple pie shared with Tan France is not about dessert but about nostalgia, about savouring a memory as though it were a delicacy. A roast chicken, imperfectly cooked on the night of a proposal, reveals that love is remembered not in the flawlessness of a dish but in the tenderness of the moment.
These fragments echo what slow luxury has always known: the unhurried, the imperfect, the deeply personal—that is where life gathers meaning.
But slow living reaches further than memory. It is found in the way we step into nature, unmediated by screens, letting the earth set our tempo. To rise with the sun and soften as it sets. To notice the arc of seasons through food: asparagus in spring, tomatoes in summer, figs in autumn, citrus in winter. Wealth, here, is not about abundance of choice, but about alignment with what is present, what is ripe, what is real.
Cooking, too, becomes a mirror of this philosophy. A slow-cooked meal, vegetables roasted until their sugars caramelize, bread rising patiently on a counter—all of these remind us that good things demand time. In Meghan’s kitchen moments with chefs like José Andrés or Clare Smyth, we glimpse not recipes but rituals: respect for ingredients, gratitude for those who grew them, joy in the act of sharing them. This is what makes a meal luxurious—not its cost, but its care.
Slow living is also inherently communal. In villages, in tight-knit neighborhoods, in circles of friends who gather not for performance but for presence, we find the deepest luxury: belonging. To share food, laughter, labor, or even silence with others is to remember that a life well lived is not measured in independence alone but in interdependence. Community tempers urgency, reminding us that joy expands when divided among many.
Season two of With Love, Meghan gestures toward this truth in moments of craft, conversation, and cooking. But even without the show, the lesson endures: slow living is not a curated lifestyle, it is a cultivated way of being. Slow living is not a trend; it is a texture.
It’s the difference between rushing through a meal and lingering at the table, between filling silence and letting it breathe. It is lighting a candle before a meal, pressing flowers into keepsakes, walking through the garden and noticing which herbs are ready to be cut. It is a life lived with intention rather than speed, with attention rather than accumulation.
For those who strive toward true wealth, slow living is not a retreat but a return. A return to the soil, to the table, to one another. A return to the rhythms that remind us we are human, not machines.
And perhaps that is the most radical luxury of all: to live unhurriedly, and in doing so, to live fully.
