When was the last time you sat by yourself—no phone, no music, no distractions? Just you and your thoughts.
Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of soul-searching and realizing how rarely I spend time alone with myself. There’s always something buzzing in the background—music, conversations, notifications, or my children needing my attention. The noise feels safe; it keeps me from sinking too deeply into my own head.
Recently, I had an experience that reminded me of the sacredness of silence. After my brother’s burial and everyone had returned to their homes, I was left with a quiet so loud it almost echoed.
The house felt unfamiliar. Every sound—my footsteps, the creak of a chair seemed amplified. I wanted to run from that silence, to fill it with anything that would dull the ache.
Yet I didn’t. For the first time in years, I sat with it. My heart was shattered, but within that stillness, something unexpected began to stir—a longing, not for noise, but for peace.
Why Silence Feels So Uncomfortable
Silence has a way of holding up a mirror.
It reflects everything we’ve managed to hide beneath the busyness—grief, fear, loneliness, regret. That’s why we fill our days with movement and distraction; it’s easier than facing what waits in the quiet.
But silence isn’t here to punish us – no. It’s here to reveal us. When the noise fades, we begin to hear what our hearts have been whispering all along: You’re tired. You’re hurting. You’re ready to heal.
It’s uncomfortable because it’s honest. And honesty, even when painful, is where healing begins.
Learning to Sit with Stillness
Learning to sit with stillness is like learning to breathe all over again.
At first, you’ll be restless. Your mind will race. You’ll wonder if you’re doing it “right.” But the practice isn’t about perfection—it’s about presence.
Start small.
Take five minutes in the morning or before bed. Sit quietly. Feel your breath move in and out. When thoughts rise, let them pass like clouds across the sky. You don’t have to chase or fix them—just notice.
Stillness teaches us that peace isn’t something we earn by doing more; it’s something we remember by doing less.
The more we allow ourselves to sit in the quiet, the more we realize we’re not alone in it. There’s a gentle presence there, our truest self—waiting patiently for us to return.
Finding Peace Within
Peace doesn’t always arrive with clarity or calm. Sometimes it comes wrapped in tears, in memories, in the ache of missing someone you love. But even in grief, stillness holds space for light to find its way back in.
The more time we spend in silence, the more we discover it isn’t empty—it’s full. Full of breath. Full of awareness. Full of small reminders that we are still here, still evolving, still becoming.
When we stop running from silence, we start listening to the voice within that says, You are enough, even here.
So when silence feels uncomfortable, stay. Sit with it.
Let it hold you the way a friend would—without words, without judgment, just presence.
Because in that stillness, peace begins to bloom again.
Reflection
How does silence feel for you?
Share your reflections in the comments below — your story might comfort someone else who’s learning to sit with their own stillness.