Don't Just Do Something, Sit There
The power of stillness and slowing down
ICYMI 👉
It’s nearly August. The days are long, and the air is still. Walking my dog Leo yesterday on our usual route took twice as long in the muggy heat in DC.
I’m not someone who is naturally inclined to slow down. In fact, the idea of stillness can feel scary, as if it might lead to loneliness or despair. Busy-ness, on the other hand, provides forward momentum—a place to be, a thing to do, the possibility of what’s next hanging impatiently in the air.
In my regular life, I talk and move fast. I scurry through the day with intention. I run yellow lights, jog up stairs, and fling open doors. This isn’t simply to avoid my own thoughts. I’ve got things to do! Patients to see! Newsletters to write!
I’m also an optimist. Even on the darkest days, I’m generally excited about things to come. I often rush to see what lies around the corner. I hurry to turn the page. The problem is that living in a state of constant anticipation—even if sprinkled with delight—can rob us of the present moment.
For example, I felt myself squirming as I wrote the above paragraph. So I bounced into my 18-year-old daughter’s room for a quick gut check. I asked for her thoughts about why it can be hard to sit still. Her answer: “Being quiet forces you to be alone with your thoughts, and that can feel overwhelming. But being alone with your thoughts can help you feel more comfortable with yourself, too.”
Validation received! So, I plan to use this month to slow down. To carve out more quiet. To create space for curiosity and wonder. To amble. To pay attention. To notice things.
Note that I’m not quitting my job or signing off from life. I’m talking about a reallocation of energy toward slowness, physical and mental. Physical stillness isn’t necessarily about lying in bed all day or eschewing exercise. It’s not about complacency; it’s about consciousness. It means paying attention to your body and taking time to rest it. For me, it will mean slow walks and long baths, deep stretches, and audible exhalations. It means taking the time to see and appreciate what is in front of you, rather than trying to look down the road or around the bend.
Similarly, mental stillness isn’t necessarily about turning your mind off. It’s not about mindlessness; it’s about mindful curiosity about your interior landscape. It’s about concentrating solely on the task at hand, not multitasking. It’s about querying your inner dialogue for murmurs about what’s really going on. It’s about listening for clues about what scares, motivates, and excites you.
I plan to start on August 1. As such, I’m giving myself permission not to write this newsletter next week (or the week after) if I have nothing to say. Silence, to me, will mean I have succeeded in my quest!
Want to dabble in slowness with me? Want to test out the month of August with less frenzy and freneticism and more calm and curiosity? In the spirit of dry January, we could even give it a name, like slo-August?
Bonus: If any of you want to reply to this email with a short essay on what quiet time means to you, I might publish it! In the meantime, drop me a line below if you, too, crave slowness and time for quiet, and why.
I will be sure to read and reply to your comments before I sign off for a bit on August 1.
If you liked this post, please hit the ❤️ or 🔄 button so more people can discover it! 🙏
Disclaimer: The views expressed here are my own and are not a substitute for advice from your personal physician.
Oh gosh. Practicing stillness is just the beginning and such a full one ! Pausing gives me a chance to nourish the part of me that holds my compassion, for myself and for others. I’m a life long meditation student and the value of resting out of interest in thought and the often accompanied urge to DO is still as strong as ever. Curiously, that’s how I’ve gotten to know myself best, as your daughter knows!
I’m entering the process of divorce at a time in my life when one would think stability and ease of being would be the result of a life well lived.
The pauses I take now are more fruitful than I could have imagined.
The slow factor puts life not on hold but opens us to life and the mystery more intimately.
Thanks for being here to inspire me to feel this gesture we are making in slowing down to be lived.
This this THIS. Did you really write it for me? 😏. I have written my substack every single day, though not at the same quality, every single day since I started in early November 2022. I retired five. Months earlier yet I created a full time job. Duh? I am struggling with permitting myself. Your note helps me so much. I beat up until I FIND something every day to discuss but perhaps I should listen more, eh? Thank you. Be slow, Lucy, be slow.