There's a big difference between slowness and stillness.
Slowness means moving with your surroundings. Going with the flow.
Stillness means being aware of how fast the world around you is moving, but not letting it dictate your pace. You notice the speed. And you make adjustments.
Acting with intention instead of just reacting.
I’m looking for that.
I’m searching for stillness.
Stay Agile, My Friends
The problem is, I’ve built a life that doesn’t allow much room for stillness.
The inbox stays full. The next meeting is already scheduled. My phone lights up again before I can put it back down.
It’s easy to say I want to be still, but being still doesn’t happen in an instant.
A truck going 80 doesn’t come to an immediate stop the second you pull the keys out of the ignition. A river doesn’t dry up when the rain stops.
There’s going to be a transition.
But maybe just wanting stillness is a start. Maybe recognizing the need for it is the first step in the right direction.
When you’re standing in the trout stream, slowness won’t help you catch any of those trout. If you only cast at the pace of the flow, you’ll always be behind. If you only use the flies they were taking last time, you’ll never know what they’re biting today.
The fly angler needs to be still, not slow. Stillness won’t spook any fish. But unlike slowness, stillness allows you to adjust your actions based on the constant movement around you.
Cast upstream of where the fish are to drift over them. Move upstream or downstream to find them in deeper pools as the water levels change. Tie on what they’re expecting to eat today rather than what they already ate last week.
Be still. But be aware.
Be still. But be agile.
Awareness of Stillness
Stillness also means being intentional.
Doing fewer things, and doing them better. Carving out time and attention. Making decisions that don’t require any explanation.
I know I’m the one who built my current pace. I said yes to everything. I stacked my calendar. I convinced myself it was necessary.
But maybe that’s the only way I could’ve figured out what doesn’t belong.
If you’re not paying attention to your surroundings, you’ll never question your speed.
I’ve seen a lot of writers on Substack recently wrestling with the same thing. Trying to define purpose, cut out the noise, and live with more intention. It’s a common goal, but what’s less clear is the arrival point.
What does stillness feel like?
Will I only recognize it when I’m old and looking in the rearview?
Right now, I only see it briefly in the gaps between everything else. Split-second flashes.
I’m not sure yet. I’m still looking.
But maybe stillness starts there.
From My Desk:
What I’m Thinking/ Doing: One of the best perks of working from home most days is working on my turkey calling between meetings. There’s no greater weekday pairing than Microsoft Excel and a raspy ghost cut call.
P.S. - I recently got my hands on a signed copy of Tenth Legion by Colonel Tom Kelly. I’ve heard about this book for years, and it has not disappointed. If you’re a fan of turkey hunting or great writing, I’d recommend giving it a look. Expect a full book report soon.
On Deck for Monday: A big week for my wife and I is on the horizon. More on that soon, too.
From The Field Review Archives:
The Field Review is a space for exploring the intersection of work, life, and the great outdoors. It’s about figuring ‘it’ out—whatever your ‘it’ might be.
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Venture Onward,
Jack
"But maybe just wanting stillness is a start. Maybe recognizing the need for it is the first step in the right direction." This feels very similar to manifestation, I like it.
I agree that one of the best parts of working from home in the Spring is the ability to hone my kee kee run between meetings.
My dog and my husband do not have the same appreciation.