Finding the Stillpoint
“Slowly.”
— Cowboy wisdom
In our fast-paced world, moving slowly isn’t easy.
Sometimes I feel like I’m back in Times Square on New Year’s Eve (did that just once), swept along by the crowd. Today, it’s not people carrying me, but the relentless surge of ideas, news, catastrophe, demands, and decisions—even in a relatively ordinary life.
Trying to stop completely in the middle of that stream might not be advisable—but trying to still could be.
When I find a place of stillness within, I can tune in to a deeper knowing. I can reconnect to my senses, rather than get lost in my chattering mind. From that still point, I may even begin to sense what the future is asking of me.
The Body’s Wisdom
The body understands the need for a pause—a brief moment to reset.
Did you know the heart takes a micro-pause between each beat? It’s called diastole—the moment when the heart muscle relaxes and fills with blood after contraction. The heart can receive only during rest.
That pause—though nearly imperceptible—is vital. It’s the quiet space where the heart renews itself and prepares for what’s to come.
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This reminds me of what craniosacral therapists call the Still Point.
Inviting the Still Point
In craniosacral therapy—a gentle, hands-on healing approach—the Still Point is a moment when the body’s rhythmic flow of cerebrospinal fluid comes to a quiet halt. It might arise spontaneously or be encouraged through touch.
In that pause, something shifts. The body resets. Peace enters. Healing can begin as the body chooses a new way to move.
A Still Point for the Mind
For those of us trying to feel our way forward, the road ahead often looks foggy. The world spins fast. Directions change daily. The news breaks on top of us. We can’t keep up.
Maybe, like the cowboy, we need to go slow.
An organization that I deeply respect recently made the radical choice to pause most of its programming. They called this time a Still Point period—a few months to stop, listen, and wait for what the future might reveal. They didn’t rush to answers. They made space for questions. They chose reflection over resolution.
That takes courage. And it’s a far cry from the kind of visioning work I used to facilitate.
Back then, I’d guide groups through retreats to articulate clear visions, define strategic goals, and create action plans—all in a day or two. There was little appetite for uncertainty and no time to dwell in questions without answers.
But that was another time.
Today, the ground keeps shifting. Forecasts expire faster than they’re made. Maybe what we need now is a very active kind of pause—one that goes beyond rest or vacation.
I think of it as a state of engaged attention, not driven by doing.
Resetting Ourselves
When the body reaches a Still Point, it knows what to do next.
Maybe we do, too.
For me, that might mean:
- Suspending the need to know where I’m going
- Setting aside the drive to “produce results”
- Becoming more observant, pensive, and reverent
- Living with questions rather than chasing answers
- Embracing a timelessness that doesn’t need to rush
- Listening for whispers—from the wind, a billboard, or a woodpecker tapping Morse code into a tree
- Trusting my soul when it says: “Wait. Not yet.”
There’s a beautiful (if unverified) quote attributed to Chief White Eagle, leader of the Ponca tribe at the turn of the last century:
“When you are in doubt, be still, and wait; when doubt no longer exists for you, then go forward with courage. So long as mists envelop you, be still; be still until the sunlight pours through and dispels the mists – as it surely will. Then act with courage.”
Here’s to that still, small space of not-knowing—and the courage to linger there for a while.
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And now a question for you:
Where in your life are you being invited to wait—and listen?
What would it mean to let go of needing to know—and trust what’s unfolding?
