What if we just.. stopped? Reimagine Society

What If We Just… Stopped?

Not everything needs to be available all the time. But we have forgotten that.

We live in a world where you can order food at 2 AM, scroll endlessly, and buy anything with a few taps, even when your soul is begging you to rest. Even when we are preparing to sleep, we scroll to click, buy, fill a need.

A while ago, I visited a website for garden fences, wood and such, just to find that it was closed, on Sundays. This was a Sunday. At first, I was surprised, almost confused. “How strange,” I thought. "How stupid."

But then something shifted.

I paused.

I reflected.

I realized.

And I wondered: Why is it strange? Why shouldn’t things close for a day? Why have we come to expect constant access?

And this wasn’t just a store closed for business hours. The entire website was closed. You couldn’t order, browse, or even look. It didn’t matter that it was digital, there was a boundary. And something about that felt… revolutionary.

Truly revolutionary! It wasn't stupid. It was FUTURISTIC!
Even if their reason might be religious (Sunday is a day of rest), it is still the RIGHT thing.

When Did We Start Believing That Convenience Is More Important Than Being Human?

We’ve built systems that run on urgency, speed, instant availability, but they don’t serve our well-being. They serve profit. They serve consumption. They serve disconnection.

And in return? Well, we give away our time. Our sleep. Our attention. Our presence.

And if we work in any of the instant access, always open, late hours jobs, then we do the jobs, knowing we are needed somewhere else. Knowing it is a soul-less, no purpose job. Knowing it is at the expense of ourselves, our family, or our well-being. But today's society offers us no choice. Instead, the response of society is: I see a need, we open an all-night childcare so others also can work taking care of the children of others who work somewhere else.

We’ve come to believe that more access = more freedom. But often, it just means more pressure. To respond. To perform. To be available. To be productive, even at night. As a consumer, as a worker.

But what if we chose something different?

What If We Let Rest Reclaim Its Place in the Rhythm of Life?

What if Sundays actually were sacred again, not in a religious sense, but in a human one?

What if:

• Stores closed early?

• Websites took intentional pauses?

• Deliveries stopped after dinner?

• The lights dimmed and the screens went quiet?
  

What if the world said, “Enough for today.” And we listened?

What would you do instead?

Because maybe we don’t need more late-night shopping. Maybe we need more late-night dreaming.
More cooking together. More listening. More story-telling and story-sharing. More loving. More being.

What If the Internet Could Rest?

That quiet website I landed on stayed with me. It felt like a small portal back to sanity.

It reminded me, and it was a hard reminder: Just because we can be available 24/7… doesn’t mean we should be.

And maybe the future isn't more access, more speed, more now. Maybe the future is enough. Maybe it’s one where boundaries are honored, and even the digital world learns to take a breath.

We only need hospitals, emergency care, and essential services through the night.
The rest of life? It can wait. Imagine that, it can wait!

Our souls are not urgent.

💭 “But I Need Things to Be Available…”

I hear it already. The resistance. The voice that says:

“But I work odd hours.” (which the point is, maybe you shouldn't)
“But I forgot something for my kid’s party.”
“But I just want that snack, that item, that delivery right now.”

But here’s the hard truth:

No, you don’t. Not when the cost is someone else’s wellbeing.
Not when the cost is your own. Not when the cost is the planet.

We can plan ahead. We can keep snacks at home. We can prepare for birthdays, holidays, and cravings without relying on instant service built on invisible labor.

Just because the system says "you can" doesn’t mean it’s kind, or fair, or right.

Your ego’s urgency is not a reason to keep people working late into the night. Not when they’re missing dinner. Missing sleep. Missing their kids. Just so we can have it now.

We need to stop calling convenience a right when it’s really a privilege built on someone else’s exhaustion.

The Hidden Cost of Convenience

There’s something we rarely stop to think about: delivery. Not just the food, but the people.

Every time we order something late at night, or expect instant service, someone else is out there giving up their time, their rest, their family, their health—to serve a system that rewards speed over soul.

Many delivery workers, especially in food, are:

• Providing their own transport (If it breaks, too bad for them, because the place they work for don't always care.)

• Penalized financially if they’re late. (They might have to pay for the food)

• Working under gig contracts with no safety net.

• Treated like extensions of the app, not humans.
  

We don't see their stories on the screen. We just click. Confirm. Consume.

But maybe we don’t need everything now. Maybe we just need to remember how to wait. How to plan. Like we used to. Like we still can.

Because it always starts with small questions.

Like:

• “Do I really need this right now?”

• “What would I do with this moment if I weren’t trying to fill it with consumption?”

• “What does my body actually need tonight?”

What we normalize becomes the culture. What we question becomes the doorway to change.

Let’s start asking. Let’s start remembering.

Imagine This Instead

Evenings are sacred, for family, for community, for creativity, for stillness. Most businesses close early or don’t open at all at night, except those essential for life and safety. People plan meals, not because they have to, but because the rhythm of life encourages it. Work schedules are built around well-being, not endless availability. Cities grow quiet at night again. Not dead, just peaceful. Workers feel like humans, not cogs.

Because we can start saying no, It is too much for me to sacrifice, just for your profit.

Back to Local. Back to Each Other.

The answer isn’t just in stopping. It’s in reconnecting. To place. To people. To the resources already around us.

There will be local stores. So go to them. Support them. Walk to them. Become local again.

Create a need for localness. A desire for small scale. A rhythm of enough-ness.

Use what’s around you. Borrow from your neighbor. Trade, lend, share.

If you live in a neighborhood with lots of kids, create a shared party storage. A closet full of decorations, candles, costumes, tablecloths, for birthdays, holidays, and everything in between. Used. Reused. Loved.

It’s not about “going without.” It’s about remembering how much we already have.

The future isn’t about faster, it’s about closer. Closer to each other. Closer to the earth. Closer to what matters.

Let’s rethink what we call “normal.” Let’s honor people over profit. Let’s rest. And let others rest, too.

We don’t have to be always-on.
And neither does the world.