Sometimes I wonder when life became so loud.
Not the kind of loud that makes you cover your ears.
A different kind.
The kind that follows you from the moment you wake up.
Before your feet have even touched the floor, there may already be messages waiting. Emails. Notifications. News. Reminders. Someone needs an answer. Somewhere, something has happened.
And without really deciding to, we reach for the phone.
The world enters the room before the morning does.
I don’t think we always realise how tiring that can be.
We have become so used to being available that being unreachable for a little while can almost feel strange.
There is always something to read.
Something to answer.
Something to watch.
Something we should apparently know about.
And then there is social media, where everyone seems to be going somewhere, doing something, achieving something, buying something, celebrating something.
Even rest has somehow become something we’re supposed to do correctly.
No wonder our souls get tired.
Maybe We Don’t Need More
I’ve been thinking about how often we look for complicated answers to simple needs.
When we’re tired, perhaps we don’t always need another podcast, another book, another video or another piece of advice.
Maybe sometimes we need less.
Less noise.
Less information.
Less urgency.
Less of the feeling that we should be doing something every minute of the day.
Maybe we need to step outside.
To feel the sun on our skin.
To let the wind move through our hair.
To take our shoes off and feel the grass beneath our feet.
To hear birds without needing to identify them.
To watch clouds without photographing them.
To drink a cup of coffee while it’s still warm.
Simple things.
Things that don’t require passwords, batteries, subscriptions or Wi-Fi.
Things that have been quietly waiting for us all along.
When Did We Stop Doing Nothing?
Do you remember when doing nothing wasn’t something to feel guilty about?
You could sit outside and stare into the distance.
You could lie on the grass.
You could watch rain running down a window.
You could spend an afternoon reading a book and not call it “self-care.”
It was simply life.
Somewhere along the way, we’ve become uncomfortable with empty spaces.
If we’re waiting in a queue, we reach for the phone.
If we’re sitting alone, we reach for the phone.
If there are five quiet minutes before an appointment, we reach for the phone.
We fill every little gap.
But perhaps those gaps were never empty.
Perhaps that’s where our thoughts had room to wander.
Where ideas appeared.
Where memories surfaced.
Where we noticed how we were actually feeling.
Where we breathed.
Ten Minutes That Belong to You
So I’m not going to suggest that you throw away your phone or disappear into the mountains.
Life doesn’t work that way.
We have families, responsibilities, jobs and people who genuinely need to reach us.
But perhaps this week we can find ten minutes.
Just ten.
Ten minutes that don’t belong to anyone else.
Leave the phone inside.
Step outdoors if you can.
Sit somewhere quiet.
Take off your shoes.
Feel the ground beneath your feet.
Look around.
Really look.
Maybe you’ll notice a flower you have walked past a hundred times.
Maybe there will be a bird sitting on a fence.
Maybe the wind will pick up.
Maybe nothing remarkable will happen at all.
And perhaps that’s the point.
You don’t need to achieve anything during those ten minutes.
You don’t need to meditate correctly.
You don’t need to practise gratitude.
You don’t need to take a beautiful photograph.
You certainly don’t need to post about it.
Nobody even needs to know.
Just be there.
Perhaps Peace Never Left
We often talk about “finding peace” as though it is somewhere far away.
A quiet beach.
A little cabin in the mountains.
A holiday we haven’t booked yet.
A life we hope to have someday.
But I’m beginning to wonder whether peace is much closer than that.
Perhaps peace hasn’t disappeared.
Maybe we’ve simply become so surrounded by noise that we struggle to hear it.
It might be waiting in the garden.
On the front step.
Beside an open window.
In the first cup of coffee before everyone wakes.
In the few minutes before sunset when the sky turns golden.
In the sound of rain.
In bare feet on cool grass.
Nothing spectacular.
Nothing that will go viral.
Just life.
Quiet, ordinary, beautiful life.
And maybe this week, that’s enough.
Before You Close Your Suitcase
Take a moment before you go.
What has been making your world feel loud lately?
And what is one simple thing that makes you feel quiet inside?
You don’t have to fix everything today.
Perhaps you only need to make a little room for silence again.
Until next Sunday…
May you find one quiet corner this week where the world asks nothing of you.
May you feel the sun on your face, notice the wind in the trees, and remember that not every moment needs to be filled.
Some moments are meant simply to be lived.
Keep packing your Sunshine Suitcase. ☀️🧳
