Cultivating Stillness

We’ve talked about cultivating calm. Now let’s talk about cultivating stillness.

Not so easy, is it?

Lately, I’ve noticed how restless I can be. Anxious. Struggling to sit still. At night, when my body longs for sleep, my mind takes off running with thoughts circling, lists replaying, worries spiraling.

If creativity is bubbling up with blog ideas, a new chapter is forming, or I have dreams of broadening my work, I welcome it. Those quiet pre-dawn hours outdoors feel like a sanctuary.

But if it’s work conflict replaying or anxiety gnawing, that restlessness is exhausting.

Permission to Put It Down

Sometimes the stillness comes not from me, but from Jim.

On evenings when I apologize for working late, he reminds me gently:
“You know if you don’t do it now, you’ll be awake at 2 a.m. doing it.”

It’s simple, but profound. What he’s really giving me is permission. Permission to spend that extra fifteen minutes or half hour tying up loose ends, so I can get it out of my head and onto paper. Then I can return to it fresh the next day.

That small shift helps me quiet my mind, enjoy the evening with him, and, most importantly, rest deeply. 

Sometimes, permission is the gateway to peace.

The Art of Doing Nothing

Years ago, Jim also taught me the fine art of doing nothing.

We were planning our first vacation together in South Beach, Florida. I had my planner-brain on, asking, “What are we going to do while we’re there?”

His reply was simple: “Absolutely nothing.”

It took me three days to fidget my way out of restlessness. But by midweek, my body stilled, my mind quieted, and I became, quite literally, a blob on the beach.

People-watching. Staring at the horizon. Listening to the seagulls and the rhythm of the tide. Soaking in sunrises, sunsets, and the warmth of the sand beneath me.

It was heavenly. Healing. And when we finally returned home, we carried with us calm, peace, joy, and renewed perspective.

No wonder I still chase water. It taught me what stillness feels like.

Where Else Can We Find Stillness?

Stillness doesn’t always look like sitting cross-legged in silence.

• For some, it’s meditation, the listening side of prayer.
• For me, yoga is a moving meditation. So is cycling. Sometimes it’s been gardening. Often it’s writing.

At its core, stillness is about creating a clearing. A shift in scenery. A turning inward.

When I clear space for what fuels me with things like yoga, biking, writing, time with friends, I notice gratitude rising. Creativity flowing. Perspective sharpening. I remember what matters. I prioritize what fuels me. I let go of what doesn’t.

We all need time to do less. Be less. Simply be.

The Joy of “Not Much”

When people ask what I did on a staycation or weekend, I often say, “Not much. Nothing at all.”

And I say it with a smile.

Busy is the opposite of stillness. But it’s not just about full schedules; it’s about busy minds. And when I slip into busyness and feel restless, anxious, overstimulated, I know it’s time to find my way back.

Finding Your Way Back

One of my favorite tools is a self-care check in , which I wrote about in Wheels to Wellbeing

When life feels noisy, I pause and check my spokes, each area of my life:

• Am I writing? Riding? Practicing yoga?
• How’s my time with Jim, my family, my friends?
• Do I feel fulfilled in my work?
• Am I fueling my body well with nutrition, sleep, play?

When one spoke feels weak, I know where to focus. As balance returns, stillness follows.

The Practice of Stillness

Stillness isn’t about perfection. It’s not about erasing anxiety or never being busy.

It’s about recognizing when the noise gets too loud and gently guiding yourself back to quiet.

Sometimes that’s three days as a blob on the beach.
Sometimes it’s twenty minutes on a yoga mat.
Sometimes it’s a simple self-check: Which spoke needs attention?

Stillness is always there, waiting. The practice is remembering to come home to it.

©2025 Lori Ann King