This morning I stood by the sea, watching the waves; never the same twice, never still. I stand there noticing the sea has no desire to hold its shape. It doesn’t try to repeat itself. It changes – subtly, constantly – spontaneously in tune with the environment. 

I stand observing this flowing constant change while recognising how the life of this human has for so long yearned certainty, wanting things to stay the same looking to live forever.

We tend towards the sort of stillness, which is interpreted as meaning ‘everything will remain the same,’ not realising that this is not stillness but control.

Mature stillness is something quieter, more subtle. It’s the ability to remain open, even as things shift. We confuse emotional steadiness with permanence. We think if we love sincerely or choose wisely, we can hold onto something that won’t change.

But just like the tide, connection moves – it rises, recedes, sometimes it storms. The heart that clings; fractures. The one that yields; deepens. We become caught in the idea that life rewards planning. We manage time, plot goals, map outcomes. This same impulse spills into our relationships: we script conversations, anticipate reactions, cling to versions of each other that more often than not no longer exist. We want others to meet our narratives, often without realising it. But we hold on too tightly creating tension. And tension becomes distance.

The Dao offers another rhythm. Not passivity, but presence. Not detachment, but deep listening. The Way flows not by clinging, but by responding. This applies not in how we relate to ourselves, but to others and the environment we swim in. When we release ourselves from wishing everything should align with our plans, then we allow space for something more organic to emerge.

Certainty in relationship is brittle. It fractures under pressure. Stillness, by contrast, is flexible. It listens instead of assuming. It breathes instead of reacting. 

A hand resting in another’s.

Stillness gives without measuring. It waits without collapse. A trust in the tide of change that doesn’t require promises; listening to the tone more than words. It remains grounded through challenges, rooted within movement, bending without breaking. This is the heart of stillness.

Little Heading October

The way does not lead

no origin no destination 

everywhere and nowhere

a path without a sign

accepting what arises

embracing everything 

Walking the path of not knowing

In

WONDER

💫