There are seasons in life when the outer world keeps moving but the inner world grows still, not the kind of stillness that soothes but the kind that stifles, a quiet that is not peace but numbness, and in these seasons, we do everything we’re supposed to—we show up, we work, we care for others, we complete tasks and answer messages and eat mea
There are things we carry that no one else sees, burdens that do not show on the surface but shape everything about how we move through the world, and these invisible things—regrets unspoken, dreams deferred, promises broken, hopes that flickered and faded before they could ever be named—become part of us, quietly influencing the choices we mak
There are moments in life when time seems to slow, not because we have achieved peace but because the internal noise has grown so loud that everything around us dims, and in these moments, we do not look for advice or answers or even comfort—we look for something to feel, something to bring us back to ourselves, something to remind us that beneat