Nothing stays the same—this is what I’ve discovered in growing up. And of course I know this, but I continually fight it. I want to understand. I want to make sense of what is happening around me. I want to know where I’m headed and see beyond the present. I want to go and go and go and rush and take everything in, taste it, spin it around in my mind until I get dizzy.
But something I’m learning is how to slow down.
Something I’m learning is how to be still.
I’m learning to quiet the rushing thoughts in my head. I’m learning to close my eyes and breathe deeply, smell the earth, the sky.
I’m learning to let life happen—to me and around me—and smile, even through the storm. I’m learning that you cannot always have the answers.
I’m learning that you will only exhaust yourself trying to run when you’re only meant to walk, trying to make people love you when they’re meant to be set free.
I’m learning to be still.
I’m learning to close my eyes and slow down time, make a moment stay, instead of letting it so quickly fade into a memory. I’m learning to relish in the present, to hold onto it for as long as I can and quit looking ahead to the next adventure, next thing, next item on my list.
I’m learning that stillness doesn’t mean a perfect life, but it does give me peace. And I’m learning that when I stop running wild, stop letting myself be pulled in three different directions, stop thinking I have to know everything—I am in-tune with the people around me, stronger in my faith, and more focused on the people and things that really matter.
I’m learning that when I am still I am not static, but strong.
I am learning that life is even more beautiful when I stop trying to have the answers, when I stop trying to write my own path, when I stop trying to continually be something, be somewhere, and instead just be.
-@_marisadonnelly (via @thoughtscatalog // instagram)