Being still

A reflection on a time of rest

This season has been a challenging one as a creative. I feel exhausted, yet desperate to make something. A writers block, a blank canvas paralysis, a photographers hesitation. This fall and winter have been hard - I have been in three car accidents in four months and our family has been sick for two months straight. But the urge to hustle still sits on my chest. Hustle - there is the troubling word. I see the need for output, the need to keep generating, keep engaging, keep keep keep.

In the midst of this driving feeling a dear friend gently reminded me the value of stillness. Of listening. Reading. Learning. Stillness. A taking in instead of an output. Her gentle whisper of a reminder drew me to the garden. In order to grow, to be abundant, lush and productive, our gardens need rest. The soil must sit undisturbed for months, letting preparation take place. It must be still. The plans I hope to bring to this new home will awaken a new and abundant garden, but for now the stillness is essential.

I love the moment in the morning right before the sun rays fill the yard; when the morning fog sits heavy and the dew dresses each blade of grass. The utter quiet and stillness, you feel the urge to whisper to take it in. Deep breaths, quiet movements, a gentle coffee steam wisp in the air. How important this quiet is.

Stillness can be an uncomfortable feeling, lacking a sense of calm or enjoyment. In this last week leading up to Christmas I received the most beautiful gift from a friend, a plate that reads Dolce far niente - ‘The sweetness of doing nothing’ or ‘sweet idleness.’ Oh how I need to be told doing nothing is sweet. Beyond the need for stillness is a need to enjoy truly doing nothing.

The most wonderful part of this time of stillness and of sweet nothingness for creatives there is something beyond: Making. Growing. Inspiration. Not the output, not the hustle, but the passion for making. As a garden rests to allow for those first tender leaves to sprout, vulnerable yet strong, I will seek rest.