Stillness.
The silence under the noise is not empty.
I fill silence the way other people fill awkward pauses. Podcast on the walk, radio in the kitchen, one more scroll before sleep – anything but the sound of my own head with nothing to do.
This letter makes the opposite case: the silence I keep drowning out isn't empty, and the small things audible inside it are guidance. Letting it in means loosening the mind's grip on every waking minute – the same release we practice in The Art of Letting Go.
Try reading the letter slowly. It works best at walking pace.
Dear traveler,
How are you today? Take a moment to turn inward. What do you feel? What are you in the mood for today?
Take a few deep breaths.
And then listen inward again.
Let silence arise.
As if you were standing in the middle of the forest – far from everything.
Total silence.
Stillness.
Only the present moment.
Once you've grown used to the silence, you'll notice you can hear your own breath. Then the gentle rustling of leaves. Maybe the soft crack of a twig. The footsteps of a squirrel. The digging of a beetle.
And suddenly you feel: this stillness is alive.
Within it, a world opens up that once seemed hidden.
Drowned out by the deafening noise of the mind.
Learn to cultivate this silence. Return to it again and again.
Because the quiet sounds in this silence have meaning.
They guide you.
They are your helpers.
Your inner voice.
Your essence.
Thank you for being here.
If something in these letters stayed with you, take it along – think about it, write your own answer, or just let it sit.
And if not today, that's okay too. There's no rush.
Until next time,
– Jan