You slow down.
You listen.
You pause.
You let things settle.
That’s stillness — the sacred space where your nervous system exhales and your spirit breathes again.
But then the pause stretches.
The quiet becomes a routine.
The softness starts to suffocate your forward motion.
And now, you’re not resting.
You’re stuck.
There’s a thin line.
Stillness is present.
Stagnation is passive.
Stillness says:
I’m listening before I move.
Stagnation says:
I’m not sure I’ll ever move again.
Stillness restores.
Stagnation numbs.
Stillness makes you more aware.
Stagnation slowly dulls your fire.
You say:
- “I’m protecting my peace.”
- “I’m not in a rush.”
- “I’m letting things come to me.”
And maybe that’s true.
But ask:
- Am I grounded — or just disconnected?
- Am I pausing with intention — or avoiding the next step?
- Is this stillness sacred — or stale?
Stillness is a season.
Stagnation is forgetting to return from it.
This is the Cushy way.
Quiet with clarity.
Calm that resets — not retreats.
You don’t have to run.
But you were never meant to stay still forever.
