There’s a line from one of my daughter’s favorite Billy Joel songs, Vienna, that I never truly appreciated until she read it to me like a poem. I’ve never claimed to be a huge Billy Joel fan — I think his “Uptown Girl” era ruined it for me, lol. But I digress. The point is, I’ve always been the type who listens more to the beat of a song than the meaning behind it. Recently, on one of our drives, in a wave of nostalgia, she played this song, and I was struck by the lyrics. They made me want to sit with them for a while and really reflect.
“Slow down, you crazy child / You’re so ambitious for a juvenile.”
She first discovered Vienna in her first year of university. I remember her telling me that tears streamed down her face as she lay in her dorm room, missing home, adjusting to her new surroundings, and reflecting on her childhood.
It struck me how often we rush through life. We can’t wait until we’re 16 to drive, 19 to drink, move out, get a good job, get married, have kids…and then the cycle starts all over again. Soon we’re waiting for every milestone with our children. Then, before we know it, we’re looking around an empty house, realizing we rushed through life; trying to check every box, meet every expectation, and hold everything together all at once.
It’s easy to fall into the trap of believing that our worth is tied to how much we accomplish — the more we do, the better we must be? Deep down, we know that pace isn’t sustainable.
“You can’t be everything you want to be before your time.”
We don’t have to rush. We don’t have to hit every milestone by a certain age or have every answer figured out today. Life isn’t a sprint — it’s a long, winding journey and when we push ourselves too hard, we risk burning out before we even get to enjoy the view.
For me, this lesson shows up most in caregiving and relationships. It’s tempting to believe I can be all things to all people — the steady caregiver, the peacemaker, the dependable friend, the perfect partner, the reliable mom and grandma. But trying to do it all at once leaves me drained, resentful, and disconnected from myself.
“Take the phone off the hook and disappear for a while.”
When Joel sang those words in 1977, the “phone” was a clunky landline on the kitchen wall. Now, it’s a glowing screen in our hands, buzzing, pinging, and demanding our attention 24/7 and yet, the advice still rings true — maybe more than ever.
We live in a culture that celebrates busyness. Answer quickly, post often, respond immediately. The world tells us that if we’re not accessible at all times, we’re falling behind. But studies have shown the opposite to be true. The constant connection isn’t helping us — it’s draining us, distracting us, and keeping us from the quiet we actually need.
That’s the wisdom tucked inside Vienna. Slowing down isn’t laziness. Disappearing for a while isn’t neglect. It’s a conscious choice to rest, recharge, and remember who you are when the noise fades.
For me, this lyric ties directly to boundaries. I’ve learned the hard way that if I don’t take a step back, I’ll lose myself in caregiving, family needs, and the chaos of everyday life. The world won’t hand me rest; I have to claim it. Sometimes that means putting my phone on silent. Sometimes it means saying no to one more obligation. And sometimes it’s simply allowing myself to sit in stillness, without apologizing for it.
It’s permission to pause and unplug and to remind yourself that Vienna — that place of peace, balance, and perspective — will still be there when you return.
“Vienna waits for you.”
Vienna, in the song, is a metaphor for the calm that’s always waiting for us if we’re willing to stop running. It’s a reminder that we’re allowed to take a breath and rest. We’re allowed to set boundaries and let life unfold at its own pace.
Boundaries aren’t walls to keep people out — they’re doors that allow us to live with balance, dignity, and peace. When I remind myself that “Vienna waits for you,” I remember that I don’t have to have it all figured out right now — even at 51. I can let go of control, accept the season I’m in, and trust that my own Vienna will still be there when I’m ready for it.
If you’ve been feeling like you’re behind or stretched thin, consider the advice this song has to offer: step back and let the world spin without you for a bit. Life is not a race, and your worth is not measured by how fast you get there.
“Slow down, you’re doing fine.”
The Other Side of Nice 