One morning, Amara left her notebook behind and simply sat. No writing, no planning — just listening.
At first, it felt strange. Her mind reached for tasks, for words, for something to do. But then she heard it: the soft rustle of leaves, the distant call of a dove, the rhythmic hush of the river brushing stones.
She realized how much she’d been missing.
In the city, silence had always felt like absence — a void to be filled with noise, news, or notifications. But here, stillness wasn’t empty. It was full. Full of life, of breath, of presence.
The more she listened, the more she noticed: the creak of her chair, the hum of bees, the quiet thud of her own heartbeat. Each sound was a reminder — you are here, you are alive, you are enough.
That morning, she didn’t write a single word. But when she returned to her notebook, her pages felt fuller than ever.
Her readers tried it too. One man wrote, “I sat on my balcony and listened to the rain. I hadn’t realized how much I needed that.” Another said, “I turned off the radio in my car and just drove in silence. It felt like a prayer.”
The quiet spark had found its voice — not in speaking, but in listening.
👂 Stillness Reflection Prompt
Take five minutes today to sit in silence. What do you hear? What do you feel? What do you learn?
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