Stillness
There’s a presence in stillness that can’t be replicated.
A distance between you and the rest of the chaotic, spinning globe—unwavering, unfiltered, indistinguishable from our overstimulated experience. No phone or book or song or game to distract from, well, existence.
Marinating in this stew of nothing can feel microscopically small amongst the hustle and bustle of a city, or a speeding highway, or looking out on the vastness of the ocean, let alone looking up into the infinite cosmos. It can also be an uncharitably humongous endeavor when breaking through the pings and pangs of today’s world.
No matter which way this stillness pulls, the only thing it’s not is insignificant.
It’s powerful. Potent.
There’s a righteousness that trumps the laziness or procrastination that can bubble underneath. An energy grows towards zen or chaos as the mind either drifts towards a comfortable floating consciousness or towards an expanding to-do list.
Strange to say, but sitting still in the modern age is an achievement. Being without occupation of an external source is no easy feat. There’s things to do. Errands to run. Chores to complete. Goals to accomplish. Emails to send. Calls to return.Reels to scroll. Bills to pay. Games to play.
The festive theft of the ownership we have over our time and our lives goes unrealized for days, weeks, years. It comes and goes. But it occurs to all. So make use, my friend.
The sand gathers whole
The ocean large, makes life small
The birds fly onward
