A Season of Stillness
Every year, this season reminds me that slowing down is not the same as stopping.
There’s a difference between emptiness and rest, between being still and being stagnant.
After releasing The Sanctuary Collection, I’ve noticed that my creativity is renewed when the busy moments fade. The rush of preparation has eased. The noise has quieted. What remains is a softer kind of work: reflecting, tending, listening.
Here in Virginia, winter has arrived early and is making its presence known. My boys have already had two sled-worthy snow days, and today marks their 3rd day off from school. The calendar tells us it’s the busiest stretch of the year, and the Christmas holiday is close enough to feel like a finish line for many of us, yet the cold and dark have already begun to settle into our days.
We are standing in two seasons at once.
One is full of lists and commitments.
The other is pulling us toward quiet.
Nature knows this rhythm well. The trees look bare, but they are not lifeless. Beneath the surface, roots are storing energy for spring. The soil may be frozen solid, but it is rebuilding. Our energy gathers in the quiet in much the same way.
It’s easy to believe that productivity ends when the pace slows. I have come to trust the opposite:
These quieter seasons are where strength gathers and direction returns.
This time of year is asking for patience, gentleness, and care, not for output but for attention.
So I am letting the work breathe. I am sketching slowly, reading more, staying curious and open. I am remembering that stillness is not wasted time. It is the place where ideas are born.
In a few weeks, the world will soften. The expectations will fall away. We will enter the only stretch of the year where quiet is almost universal.
What will you do with your stillness when it arrives?
Until then,
May you prepare to welcome the hush between seasons.
May your rest be fertile ground for what’s next.
And may stillness find you, wherever you are.
If we haven’t met, I’m Sarah K., an artist and writer based in Richmond, VA. From my sunroom studio, I create hand-built ceramics, linocut prints, and written blessings, shaped by quiet mornings and the rhythm of daily practice. My work centers on rest, stillness, and the beauty of everyday rituals.
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