A Dose of Stillness

 #3 in the Love for Imperfect Things Series

Savoring simple daily pleasures

"When we are alone in a peaceful place, we experience the stillness of our mind. It is nourishing and restorative like medicine, helping us recover our centre and feel the divinity within us. A dose of stillness once in a while does a lot of good."
— Haemin Sunim, Love for Imperfect Things

After the vibrancy, intensity, and sheer sensory overload of our recent trip to Singapore—the heat, the humidity, the constant movement—I’ve unexpectedly found myself experiencing the kind of stillness Haemin Sunim so gently encourages in his book. Though not quite how I’d have planned it, being knocked over by a stubborn little virus on our return has slowed life right down. And surprisingly, I’m grateful.

There is something undeniably restorative about being home. Not just physically back, but truly present in my space—no plans, no pressures, no expectations. For the first time in a long while, I’ve allowed myself to fully sink into the quiet. No makeup, no schedule, no need to be “on.” Just soft loungewear, a warm mug of tea, cozy mysteries, and the soothing rhythm of birdsong drifting through open windows.

This unexpected pause has felt like a gift. A dose of stillness.

I’ve been thinking back to another time life slowed down: the COVID lockdowns. A chapter of collective upheaval, yes—but also, personally, a chapter of deep grounding. We spent months at home, and while the world outside felt uncertain and often frightening, inside our four walls, I found a sense of safety and contentment I hadn’t known before. As a homebody, I soaked up the long, unstructured days with my family. I remember the simplicity of those moments: cooking slowly, reading often, moving through the day without urgency.

This past week—though triggered by a pesky throat infection—has returned a bit of that forgotten rhythm to me. The slower mornings. The luxury of reading in the daylight hours. The kind of rest that comes not just from sleeping, but from not needing to be anywhere or do anything. In this quiet, I’ve noticed something magical: my mind feels clearer. Unrushed, it has space to catch up with itself—to sort, dream, create, and clarify.

Haemin Sunim reminds us that peace isn’t something we need to travel far to find. It’s not a destination or a reward for productivity. It’s here, within us, always waiting for a moment of quiet to rise to the surface.

Stillness, in this context, isn’t the absence of life or energy. It’s a return to centre. It’s the moment your soul exhales after being stretched too thin. It’s noticing the freshness of the cooler air, the way light softens through your windows, and the nourishment of fruit prepared slowly, savoured fully.

We often push stillness away—filling every gap with tasks, goals, screens, and stimulation. But perhaps, as Sunim gently teaches, stillness is not a luxury, but a medicine. One we’d do well to take regularly, before life forces our hand.

So today, as I sit in the quiet with nothing more urgent to do than rest and recover, I’m leaning into this space with full permission. I’m letting myself be still, and in doing so, I’m finding a depth of peace I didn’t realise I needed. A peace that doesn’t demand perfection or productivity—just presence.

And maybe that’s the lesson here. Sometimes, the universe slows us down so we can hear ourselves again. So we can realign, refocus, and remember the divinity within.

A dose of stillness, once in a while, really does do a lot of good.