The Doorway Called Stillness
Calm doesn't arrive because life grows quiet, but because we finally do.
Today’s article is a continuation from last Sunday’s Studio Sunday post - Stillness Creates Space.
Through creativity and reflection, I found stillness.
Shocking, right? Everything I talk about seems to circle back to those two words, so… shock it should not be.
Let’s begin with what stillness isn’t.
The stillness I’m referring to isn’t silence. Silence is simply the absence of sound.
Stillness doesn’t come from peace… peace is what rises after stillness has done its work.
Stillness is a practice, not an outcome. It’s a practice of presence - of returning, again and again, to your own inner steadiness. It isn’t something you “do” for ten minutes and then leave behind. It’s something you carry.
Stillness is the moment you stop managing what you feel and start meeting what’s there.
For me, it looks like sitting with my journal or Living Art Sketchbook, letting a conversation with my Self unfold. Sometimes… it’s not so pleasant. Sometimes… it’s surprisingly sweet. But always, it’s honest. I listen long enough to write down what surfaces… not to fix it, but to honor that it came forward at all.
What It Means to Be in Stillness
Being in stillness isn’t about tuning out the world; it’s about tuning in to your Self beneath the noise. The noise never disappears… it just loses its authority.
Stillness is awareness of Self… spirit, essence, whatever word you choose. It’s that quiet inner companion you meet when the outer world softens. You don’t need to define it perfectly; you only need to recognize its voice when it speaks.
Stillness doesn’t come from peace. Peace is what rises after stillness has done its work.
Many people compare stillness to meditation, and in some ways they overlap. But I feel their intentions are slightly different. Meditation teaches focus and observation - a beautiful discipline of awareness. Stillness extends that awareness into relationship - a living communion with your deeper Self that travels with you beyond the cushion.
Where meditation trains attention, stillness nurtures intimacy. It’s less about clearing the mind and more about cultivating trust within it - a willingness to meet yourself where you actually are.
Why We Struggle with Stillness (and Why That’s Okay)
Struggling with stillness isn’t failure - it’s courage in action. Each time you stay, even briefly, you build the capacity to be vulnerable with yourself.
I’ve never been great at traditional meditation. Sitting cross-legged in silence once felt like being locked in a room with an impatient roommate. Stillness, for me, happens through gentle engagement: simple movement, journaling, creating, moving my hands.
When the world feels too loud, I may meditate to clear away everyone else’s lingering imprint on my brain… their words, emotions, expectations. But stillness is where I rediscover my own frequency. That’s where clarity lives.
And if what surfaces ever feels too heavy to hold alone, that’s still part of the practice - it’s simply your cue to reach for support. Stillness isn’t meant to isolate you; it’s meant to strengthen you for connection.
Stillness doesn’t hand you easy answers. It builds the courage to seek them.
How We Strive for Stillness but Fail
We often fail at stillness because we fear what might surface if we stop controlling the narrative. Some part of us already knows what’s waiting… and it might hurt.
So we stay busy in silence. We clean, plan, scroll, and call it “rest.” I did that for years, mistaking quiet productivity for presence. But busyness in silence is still avoidance.
Stillness doesn’t hand you easy answers. It builds the courage to seek them.
When I finally stopped hiding behind “quiet control” and began truly practicing stillness, I realized the goal wasn’t serenity. It was capacity.
The Bridge: Creativity and Reflection
When I began working in paper art… the repetitive motion of quilling… something shifted. My hands moved, my breath steadied, and my mind softened. Thoughts began to surface naturally, like bubbles rising through water.
Stillness doesn’t hand you easy answers. It builds the courage to seek them.
That motion became my grounding ritual. The physical act gave my overwhelm somewhere to land. As my hands created, my Self began to speak.
The more I made, the more I wrote. The more I wrote, the clearer I saw the patterns shaping my life - choices, habits, emotional loops. Seeing those patterns built courage to choose differently.
Here come those two words! Creativity became my access point to stillness. Reflection turned that stillness into understanding.
For anyone intimidated by finding that stillness, this is where to begin: pick up a pen, brush, sewing needle, quilling tool, or pencil. Let your hands move until your heart starts speaking.
The Evolution of Stillness
At first, stillness can feel tight and unyielding, like something you can’t quite slip into. But with patience, it begins to give.
Eventually, it becomes a quiet current beneath everything else. The world hasn’t grown quieter - it rarely does - but inside, I have - and you will.
Two familiar lessons have resurfaced - caring for an aging parent and consulting again for a company that once consumed me. Each has drawn me back into relationships that used to leave me depleted, yet this time I meet them differently.
Stillness didn’t erase the history between us; it changed how I stand inside it. It lets me stay grounded and compassionate - to show up as the woman I’ve become, not the one those stories once defined.
One morning, I sat at my desk expecting frustration to pour out as I wrote, bracing for the old emotions to rise. But the words didn’t come. Neither did the ache. As the noise of my schedule and responsibilities pressed in, I realized I was meeting it all with stillness. Gratitude appeared instead - for my own steadiness, for the quiet proof that growth had taken root. Each word softening the weight, and peace followed close behind.
The Doorway to the Authentic Self
Even with all the noise, I can still hear my own truth. That’s the gift of stillness. It clears the static between who you are and how you live.
Stillness is the doorway through which the authentic self steps forward. You don’t pry it open; you simply stand before it, willing to listen. And when you’re ready, it opens.
Thanks for meeting me here today. My writing is always from the heart… but this one in particular sits right between each strong beat.
‘til next time we chat.
Jana
If this article resonates, you’ll love Studio Sunday - a weekly rhythm of creativity and reflection that helps you practice stillness in the simplest way possible. No candles required. Just your hands, your heart, and a few quiet minutes that belong entirely to you.