When the Breeze Stops

This week I wrote about calm — that moment when the breeze disappears and the sun presses heat into your shoulders. The kind of calm that doesn’t feel peaceful at first, because stillness can be uncomfortable when you’re used to motion.

I wrote about gratitude, sitting in a chair in another country, asking for a haircut, and realizing that sometimes the smallest moments, a conversation, a gesture, a smile, remind you that life doesn’t need to be grand to be meaningful.

Now, I’m sitting on a plane, heading back to reality, listening to peaceful cello music and not reading and not thinking and just letting the sound move through me, string by string, note by note.

Why this music? Why now?
Because lately, I’ve been trying to listen more deeply, not just to words, but to rhythm. To the way life breathes when you stop trying to control it.

We talk so much about growth and mindset, about the next goal, the next leap, but there’s quiet growth too. The kind that happens in reflection, in slowing down, in noticing what’s already good.

In a few short months, we’ll pause to look back, another year in review, another chapter written.

So before that moment comes, ask yourself:
What change have you made this month, this quarter, to become new?
Not louder. Not busier. Just… new.

Sometimes renewal doesn’t roar. It whispers.

Let the rhythm slow down.