The trees have shed their leaves. The air feels quieter. The flurry of fall has slowed. This is the season when nature rests—and so should we.
Grief often moves like the seasons. There are times of growth, times of letting go, and then, times of stillness. That stillness can feel uncomfortable. You might wonder: What now? Am I doing enough? Shouldn’t I feel better by now?
But just as the soil rests after the harvest, our hearts need rest, too.
Why Stillness Matters in Grief
In our fast-paced world, we’re taught to keep moving—to stay busy, distract ourselves, and “move on.” But healing doesn’t work that way. Stillness is where the heart catches up to the head. It’s where we sit with our grief long enough to understand it, to listen to it, and to let it transform us.
Stillness isn’t stagnation—it’s sacred.
The Strength Found in Quiet
When you allow yourself to pause, strength begins to take root. It’s not loud or dramatic. It’s gentle and steady. It’s the strength that whispers, “I can keep going.”
In the quiet moments—lighting a candle, sipping coffee, journaling—you start to see how far you’ve come. You’ve walked through change, heartache, and growth. You’ve tended your grief like a garden through every season. And here, in the stillness, you get to rest in the knowing that you’ve made it this far.
Coaching Tip: Embrace the Pause
✨ Unplug Intentionally – Take one evening this week to rest without distraction. No phone. No noise. Just you.
✨ Reflect – Journal: “What have I learned about myself through this season?”
✨ Reground – Light a candle and sit quietly for five minutes. Focus on your breath. Feel gratitude for the resilience that got you here.
✨ Reset – Remember, rest isn’t the end—it’s the preparation for what’s next.
Quote to Carry With You
"Within you, there is a stillness and a sanctuary to which you can retreat at any time and be yourself." — Hermann Hesse
This season of stillness doesn’t mean your growth stops. It means your roots are deepening.
You’ve harvested hope from hard soil, found gratitude in the mess, and learned to release what no longer serves you. Now, it’s time to rest—to honor how far you’ve come, and to trust that even in the quiet, you are still healing.
This is your season of stillness and strength.