Sitting In Stillness: Sorry, NOT Sorry

Lately, I’ve been tired — not the kind that a good night’s sleep fixes, but the deep, soul-level fatigue that comes when the body, mind, soul and spirit start asking for stillness. This is the kind of stillness that feels heavy in the air — like fog you can’t quite see through, but you know you’re not supposed to run from it. This is that something that’s asking of me to stop moving and just be still, and that’s where I find myself wanting to be lately.

Sitting In Stillness

Maybe you’ve felt it too — that deep primal energy of this season that is darker than normal. It matches the stark environment, shorter days, and is touching the very parts of you that are now exposed to its climate. For now, I find myself sitting with this stillness — the in-between space where creativity slows and energy turns inward. Sometimes the most honest thing we can do is pause, listen, and hear its pulse of silence.

Maybe that’s the quiet lesson this season keeps teaching us: that there are times when we are meant to rest inside the in-between. That stillness isn’t laziness or loss of purpose, that is actually the acknowledgment that sometimes, nothing needs to be produced or proven. This is the sacred pause between the quiet stretch right before the holiday season’s noise returns, the waiting space between what’s fading and what’s forming.

It’s where the next truth begins developing, just below the surface, waiting for you to stop long enough to hear it whisper. And this year, instead of forcing myself to fill it, I’m doing something radical: I’m letting it be quiet.

Sorry, not sorry.

I’m not sorry for not showing up with new content, fresh inspiration, or perfectly worded motivation.
I’m not sorry for slowing down, for not having plans, or for needing and wanting solitude.
I’m also not sorry for having a snoopy emotional support stuffed animal at age 56. You can have one too!

Because even silence has a heartbeat and a pulse. We just can’t hear it when we’re too busy performing. This stillness isn’t stagnation — it’s sacred. It’s the cocoon between versions of self, the quiet where new roots take hold. It also isn’t punishment. It’s permission. A needed pause for what’s tender, raw, and real. A moment to sit in gratitude for how far you have come, and how willing you are to still begin again.

What if we stopped treating our exhaustion as weakness and started seeing it as the body’s most honest prayer?

“Sorry, Not Sorry”

I used to apologize for my pauses,
for the quiet between creations,
for the silence that asks nothing
but honesty.

I used to trade my essence
for a dollar’s worth of approval—
a symbolic exchange
for something sacred.

But lately, stillness has taken me in,
and I’ve stopped settling
for what doesn’t see me whole.

In my dream recently, someone stole my lilac boot,
the one that fit my spirit,
In return for the theft, I was offered a coin instead.
For a moment, I held it—
then handed it back.

Because I am not for sale
in any denominations.
My worth cannot be measured
in productivity,
or in how quickly I can perform.

The poison spiders of old stories
crawled across my path,
testing what would stick—
but I walked through untouched,
barefoot, honest, free.

Now I move only
when movement feels true.
Now I create
when creation calls me.
And I’m not sorry
for the silence
That makes my words worth hearing.

The Sacred Pause

And so, I’m letting this season be what it is — unpolished, quiet, and deeply human. If you find yourself here too — tired, tender, and unsure what’s next — maybe don’t rush to fill the space.
Let the quiet speak.
Let it teach you what can only be learned when you stop doing and simply be.
Listen closely — it might just be the sound of your next beginning.