Flowers don't stop growing just because they're still. Neither do you.
When my beloved K'nik was a puppy, he used to grow overnight while I slept. I swear I'd wake up and he'd be bigger than the night before. Nothing about him looked busy while it happened. He was just curled up, breathing; a sleeping pup.
I think about that a lot lately, because so many of us have been taught (indoctrinated!) that stillness means we're not doing anything. That if we're not producing, moving, checking something off, we must be falling behind.
I was talking with a mentoring client recently who named it perfectly: it's hard to just be. We think being still means we're being lazy.
It makes sense, honestly. Our culture runs on the idea that you have to be producing to have value. Even some versions of faith teach that we're meant to toil now and get rewarded later in heaven, as if ease has to be earned somewhere down the road instead of being available to us now.
But that's not the only story.
Plenty of indigenous and Eastern traditions teach something softer and deeper: you have value because you were born. That's it, that's all. You arrived already worthy, already special, already enough. Nothing to prove, nothing to earn.
On the other hand, somewhere along the way, a lot of us were taught that we have to keep moving, and that slowing down enough to pay attention to our own insides is weird.
Years ago, teaching Reiki in a hospital setting, I asked a room full of people to simply notice their breath, to feel what was happening inside their own bodies. A few walked out. They'd been taught that turning inward like that was something to fear.
It made me so sad for them!
Add in a culture of apps designed to keep us scrolling, and it's no wonder so many of us feel disconnected from ourselves. Just breathing, just noticing, just being still enough to feel your own inner rhythm... It's become a radical act.
The good news is your body already knows how to do this. One minute of conscious breathing will downshift your nervous system. Three minutes and you are starting to connect deeply with the living, nourishing world within and around you.
And that's transformational.
This is why I developed the 3-Minute Tiny but Mighty Practices, so you'd have a real, doable way back to yourself.
Here's a 3-Minute Tiny but Mighty Practice to help you soften into that deep connection and start to trust your stillness:
Find a comfortable spot to sit or lie down. Outdoors is magical. Let your eyes close, or soften your gaze downward.
Allow your breath to become natural and easy. No fixing, no forcing. Just noticing air moving in and out. Soften into the moment, letting your burdens and your to-do list drop away. It may try to return, and that's okay; don't fight it. Just bring your awareness back to your breath and your senses right now, in this moment.
That's it. You may find it so pleasurable that you continue to just be beyond 3 minutes. Yay! You've tapped into a deep place of healing, the source of well-being. You.
You're not behind. You're not lazy. You're like a flower, still growing, quietly, right where you are.
Loved this topic? Deep dive with Sarah!
Why we need rest and slowness to grow
We live in a world that thrives on burning people out. Everything is about hustling, making things faster and more efficient, and constantly demanding more.
People say that no one wants to work anymore, but the truth of the matter is… people are so burnt out… they can’t work anymore. Not in the traditional way.
Self-employment has skyrocketed in the past few years, and everyone seems to come down hard on people starting these kinds of businesses, but at the end of the day, people are just looking for something slower. Working 80-hour work weeks, at high-demanding jobs that require a high ROI all the time, leaves no time to live the life you are trying to fund.
What’s the point?
When you’re hustling and working constantly like that, you don’t have time to experience life, to learn new things, to invest in creative pursuits or hobbies, even to exercise or sit down for a nice dinner.
You get up, you go to work, you eat from your desk, you go home, get ready for bed, rinse and repeat.
What’s missing in this type of working environment?
The ability to slow down, relax, rest, and grow.
Stillness and slowness are the keys to growth.
Think about the leaves on a tree. In the fall, all of the leaves begin to fall from the trees. By winter, the trees are bare and in rest mode. In spring, those leaves start to grow back, day-by-day. By summer, the trees are full of leaves again.
You don’t see the tree hustling and burning out to grow its leaves back every spring.
It doesn’t judge itself for hibernating and resting for the entire winter season.
The tree knows that rest is needed to come back stronger every year. It allows nature to take its natural course and grow a little each day until it becomes full of bright green, beautiful leaves again.
The tree engages in slowness and stillness to produce its leaves every year.
Baby animals (and baby humans) sleep a lot. And they do this because this is when they actively grow. Not because they’re forcing and “putting in the hours” to grow, but because the rest is needed for their bodies to properly grow.
Even we rest and repair the most when we sleep. During our sleep cycle, we go into REM sleep. It’s where we dream and where our bodies and brains repair from the day we just had to prepare for the next day. That only happens when we have a proper sleep cycle.
If you haven’t yet, or even if you have, scroll back up and do the 3-minute tiny but mighty practice to help you practice being in stillness and basking in the glow of just being.
Do this practice regularly to help your brain and body experience the feeling of true relaxation. It’s not lazy; it’s a beautiful and necessary part of growth.
Reflection Questions:
Where in your life have you been equating stillness with laziness or falling behind, and what would it feel like to genuinely trust, the way a tree trusts winter, that rest is not time lost but growth happening in the dark?
Think about a season of your life that felt quiet, unproductive, or slow. Looking back, what was actually growing in you during that time that you couldn't see while it was happening?
What is one small, regular act of stillness you could offer yourself this week? Not as a reward for finishing everything, but as a non-negotiable part of how you grow?
