The Art of Staying Still


There is something to silence, something to solitude and the sustainment of a state of being that lulls a mind into its quiet nooks and rifts, cocooning thoughts into circuitous notions and immovable meditations. To be fixed, fastened and pinned to one place can make a body move slow and make the wandering heart crave… something. Anything. To simply go. For the ones who wish to move freely through the world, this silence, solitude and sustainment can feel less contemplative and more broody, stalled.

This is where I find myself this gray and rainy January day in the middle of the workweek with no brightly lit, faraway place in sight. In this space, feet firmly planted in home, a funny thing begins to happen. As a collector of things — stones, books, trinkets, leaves, words — I surround myself with the things that define my world, define my home. I arrange them carefully to tell…

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