Over the past few weeks, I’ve found myself drawn inward, following a deep and undeniable impulse to retreat—not just into my home or a room, but into myself. This year, more than any other, I’ve honored that calling. While the world buzzed with holiday shopping, parties, and the frantic rush of the season, I spent much of my time in stillness and quiet. Yes, I participated in a few of those external activities, but mostly, I’ve stayed internal, carving out a sacred silence within. Who knew that silence could be so vast, powerful, and full of texture and depth?
As I lean into this quiet, a profound sense of calm begins to unfurl. The inner defender—that part of me always ready to argue, to assert, to be heard—starts to soften and let go. And as it fades, another layer emerges: a tenderness I’ve rarely allowed myself to feel. It’s a tender spaciousness, an openness I’ve been unknowingly craving.
I’ve noticed a shift in how I move through my days in this space. Instead of frantically chasing or striving to "find" something—some answer, some solution—I’ve surrendered to the stillness, trusting that whatever is meant to arrive will find its way to me. Although I can feel something wanting to emerge, I am not sure of the “what,” but I can feel its presence, like a faint pulse. It’s not clear yet, this thing that’s emerging, but there’s a sense of inspiration and impulse brewing, like a whisper just out of reach.
I’ve been clearing space externally and internally to support this unfolding. Although, again, I am not sure why, I follow the deep inner urge to do so. I’ve boxed up the holidays, recycled old files, and let go of work journals and notes that no longer hold relevance, their pages gathering dust for years on the shelf. Each act of clearing feels like a release, a way of honoring the new by creating space. Internally, I’ve turned down the volume on fear-inducing news and social media, cultivating a quieter, stiller mind. My body, too, has joined this clearing process: water flushes my system as I abstain from alcohol and reduce sugar. Surprisingly, these choices feel light, easy, and empowering. My body responds with gratitude, and I can feel it—a palpable sense of renewal coursing through me.
What’s arising in this newly created space isn’t entirely clear yet. Perhaps it’s simply the space itself, an expansive silence I never knew could feel so full. Whether something tangible arrives or not feels less important now. What matters is the clarity of the impulse I’m following, which I trust with my heart. The old me might have dismissed it, pushed it aside in favor of practicality. But this time, I’m listening. I’m honoring the stillness and letting it show me the way this time.
I would love to hear if you are feeling this call or allowing the space for it to emerge. I would love to hear about your journey and experience, even if it is wildly different from mine- they all matter because they are.
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