I’ve noticed that there are certain moments in a day — or a year — when everything becomes still. Not quiet like a peaceful morning. . . quiet like a truth waiting to be acknowledged.
These are the moments most of us instinctively turn away from. We pick up our phone. We check our email. We find something to clean or fix or scroll or manage. Because stillness has a way of revealing the things we’ve been carrying.
And sometimes, those things feel too heavy to face.
But here’s the strange gift of December: the world slows down whether we want it to or not.
The still places we avoid are rarely empty. They are full of the truths we haven’t had time to feel.
Maybe it’s a grief you’ve been walking around for months. Maybe it’s a longing you’ve tucked away because it felt inconvenient. Maybe it’s a tiredness you’ve been denying because being tired feels like weakness. Maybe it’s joy — honest joy — that scares you because of how vulnerable it feels to want more.
Stillness doesn’t create these truths. It simply reveals them.
And yet, these still places matter because they’re where you meet yourself without distraction. Where you hear the questions beneath the questions. Where you can’t pretend anymore — not in a punishing way, but in a profoundly human one.
Stillness is a mirror. It reflects what your busy mind has smudged over. This is why it can feel uncomfortable, even frightening.
But discomfort is not danger. It’s information.
Stillness shows you:
- what hurts,
- what matters,
- what needs tending,
- what’s ready to be released,
- what’s longing to grow roots in your life.
Most of us assume that facing these truths will make life heavier. But often, the opposite is true.
What weighs us down isn’t the truth itself — it’s the effort of avoiding it.
When you let yourself sit in stillness, even briefly, something softens.
- The grief becomes nameable.
- The longing becomes clearer.
- The tiredness becomes permission rather than shame.
- The joy becomes reachable.
December gives us rare permission to pause — not to analyze, judge, or fix, but simply to notice what’s real.
And in noticing, we become more honest with ourselves. More grounded. More free. Because you can’t heal what you refuse to see. And you can’t grow unless you know where you’re standing.
This stillness isn’t a winter interruption. It’s an invitation.
Quiet Question for You:
What does silence show you that busyness hides?
The Listening Post
A quiet place to be heard — and to hear yourself. The Listening Post is like a quiet conversation with yourself. It listens carefully, asks thoughtful questions, and helps you find what’s true for you. And it’s completely private!
EN 
ES