The Choice to Be Still

A warm October day by the shore — sun on my skin, a good book in hand, and the rare permission to simply be still.

It was early October and one of those rare days that felt like summer. A cloudless sky, the air soft and warm, temperatures lingering in the mid-70s along the shore, with a breeze blowing from the west making it feel even warmer.

I was sitting in my favorite rocking chair on the porch, overlooking the ocean, reading my book — fiction, the kind that lets you drift into someone else’s story for a while. It was a day we might not have again, at least not until next summer.

“Do you want to go for a trail walk?” he asked, dressed and ready to go.

I had to think about it for a few minutes.

The truth is, I’m not very good at sitting still. I’m used to being in motion — doing, producing, checking something off a list. Stillness can feel like a luxury I haven’t quite learned to earn. Even when I’m resting, there’s a whisper in the back of my mind reminding me of what I could be doing instead.

And yet, I love sitting on the porch, overlooking the ocean. Being outside, in the warm sunshine, surrounded by a cool breeze on my skin, the smell of salt air, and the sound of waves breaking just beyond that place where the land and sea meet, makes me happy.

I also love walking in the woods. Being on a deserted trail, surrounded by the scent of dirt and the sound of leaves underfoot, also makes me happy.

What did I want?

The choice was mine.
The choice is always mine.

But sometimes, after a lifetime of making choices that pleased others or put their wants before my own, I forget that.

Sometimes, as a peacekeeper and consensus-builder, I don’t always know what I want.
And sometimes, even when I do know, asking for — and receiving — it isn’t easy.

Choosing what I want simply because I want it can feel unfamiliar. Even uncomfortable.

But on that warm October day, I chose to stay right where I was.

I didn’t go for a trail walk. I chose to stay right where I was, Content on the porch, and in letting my choice be known.

Learning to Honor the Pause

As simple as it seems, that moment — choosing to stay — was an act of self-trust.

For years, I equated movement with meaning. Productivity with self-worth. Stillness felt indulgent, even lazy. But I’m learning that stillness can be a form of strength — the place where clarity begins and self-awareness deepens.

Sometimes the most powerful choice we can make isn’t to do more, but to be here, fully present, fully honest about what you want in the moment.

Because the truth is, we can’t hear our own wisdom when we’re constantly in motion.

An Invitation

So today, I offer you this:
Pause.
Take a deep breath.
And ask yourself — what do you want, right now?

Not what’s expected.
Not what’s efficient.
Not what pleases others.

Just what feels right, true, and nourishing for you.

It might be a walk in the woods.
It might be sitting on the porch, reading.
Or it might simply be the choice to be still, and to let that be enough.

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