A Stir in the Stillness

The last few days have been gloomy. I spent them wrapped in my cocoon, moving through rain and sun, quietly sitting with what was present in my little cabin. No distractions, no escapes. Just being. The question arose—life’s question. Questioning everything. The world. My world. My actions. My relationships. My work. Myself. The questions came in waves: existential, philosophical, practical, logistical. 

I believe this phase is necessary. To turn all the cards face up, to ask the hard things: Am I truly choosing the life I’m living? Am I still happy with the path I’ve chosen? What needs my attention? What needs to change? What am I letting go of and what I'm calling in? 

I'm always aware of the risk of bypassing—of avoiding the truth, of saying, “It’s fine, it’s fine” when it isn’t. So I dig deeper, look closer, and remind myself to be brave. Once I see, I can’t turn away.

Today, for the first time, I stepped into daylight. The sun is shining. Snow glistens on Haytor, calling out to me. Life is alive out here, moving around me. And deep inside, for the first time since the new year, I feel something shift—a small pleasurable stir.

I like this feeling. I am alive. I am living.