Action in Stillness

When the clock struck midnight on January 1, 2026, I was sound asleep. I woke the next morning in a new year, expecting to feel different. Our household had been taken down by the flu over the year-end holidays, and we were only just beginning to feel better. I was waiting for some kind of new-year energy to arrive in my body, and it didn’t. First, because this flu was particularly gnarly. And second, because as I am learning, the invitation I keep hearing and seeing everywhere is the same small, but potent word: still.

I love words with many meanings. Still, the adjective: not moving or making a sound. Still, the adverb: up to and including the present moment, even now as formerly. Or nevertheless, all the same. There are more definitions, but I’ll stop there.

As someone living in the world, I often feel pressure to act. Action is framed as better than inaction. Act now, before it’s too late! It can feel like a command to remain in motion. If you pause to think, you’ve already waited too long. The systems we live in reward busyness and distraction. They rarely make space for rest, and even less for stillness. I have learned to make friends with rest, but stillness is something different altogether.

Stillness is not the same as rest, and it is certainly not inaction. The winter stillness of our gardens preserves and prepares the energy of spring. The stillness of woodland creatures is a form of protection, conserving energy when resources are scarce. Stillness is not the absence of movement. It is a different kind of preparation.

So here we are at the start of a new year, feeling the familiar push to go and do. Some movement is necessary. Responsibilities remain. And still, we are in winter. Winter is a season of waiting, gestating, and listening for what wants to emerge. That season does not end with the light’s return after solstice or the turning of the calendar year. This is true in nature, and it is true in our lives and leadership.

While we are still here, I invite us into relationship with stillness and into the learnings it offers:

• What do you notice in yourself when you are invited to be still?
  
• What questions want to be asked from this place?
  
• What is stillness offering you as you begin a new year?

Still is teaching me that things taking longer than planned are not mistakes, but invitations into depth and commitment. Still is showing me where my impatience is a useful catalyst and where it is not welcome. Still is helping me trust that I have what I need, and that more will continue to be provided as I place one step in front of the other, in the direction of my heart’s calling. 

What is stillness teaching you?