Finding Stillness

Written By Deborah Soltis

There are people who seem to know how to be still.

I've never been one of them.

My mind is almost always planning, wondering, solving, remembering. If my thoughts happen to quiet for a moment, my hands usually take over. I've spent a lifetime in motion, filling calendars, raising a family, building a career, chasing ideas, dreaming up stories, finding the next thing that needs doing.

I love my busy life.

But every now and then, something inside me whispers, Enough.

When that happens, I wander into the Gulf until the water reaches my shoulders. I take one slow breath, lean back, and let the water catch me.

At first, it feels impossible to surrender my weight.

Then the sea does what it has always known how to do.

My ears slip beneath the surface while my face stays in the sunshine. The world softens. The chatter disappears. I can't hear the waves or the people on shore. I hear almost nothing at all.

Just the gentle hush of being held.

My shoulders unclench. My breathing slows. My thoughts drift away without asking permission.

For those few quiet minutes, I don't have to solve anything.

I don't have to create, organize, remember, or accomplish.

I simply float.

It's such a small thing—a backfloat in warm salt water.

But sometimes the smallest moments restore us in the biggest ways.

That's my perfect bite.

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Deborah Soltis
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