Solitude & Stillness are Sacred
This is our beautiful granddaughter, Kassia. We were on a family holiday, and it was the first time she and her sisters had been to the beach and experienced the ocean. Kassia stood there for ten minutes or more, taking in the beauty and stillness. I wish I knew what was going on inside of her. She later said she could have stood there forever. For me, it was a lovely picture of a sacred pause.
In our fast-paced, technology-driven world, stillness, quiet, and solitude often seem like luxuries—if not an outright inconvenience. Yet the simple practice of “being” over “doing” is essential for emotional health, clear thinking, and spiritual renewal—for both children and adults.
Whether it’s a child overstimulated by screens and schedules, or an adult juggling responsibilities and noise, the absence of external chatter offers the presence of something deeper: rest, awareness, and healing. In a culture that celebrates productivity and busyness, reclaiming stillness is a fundamental and restorative act. When we make space for stillness, we are more able to process our emotions, regulate our nervous systems, and cultivate self-awareness.
Even children’s nervous systems crave solitude and stillness. Studies have shown that excessive loud noise can disrupt children’s cognitive development. We all know that noise is distracting and it impacts the development of a young child’s brain, which makes concentration more difficult.
The older I get, the more I crave stillness and solitude. I try now, more than ever, to be fully present, as I am mindful of my surroundings while engaging all five of my senses. What do I hear, see, smell, feel, and taste? It’s a powerful way to ground yourself in the present moment. When we intentionally notice the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and textures around us, we shift our focus away from past worries and future anxieties and are then able to lean into the beauty of the current moment.
Just as our bodies need food, water, and rest, our hearts and minds need silence, space, and a sacred pause. These are not signs of laziness, but rather invitations to return to our truest self—unplugged, unrushed, and fully present.
In these spaces, children become more centered and resilient, while adults discover peace and purpose. Solitude affords us a sacred reset. In the stillness, we are finally able to hear what has been drowned out for years: our desires, our wounds, our longings, and our calling. And in the silence, we may even hear the sacred whisper of God that reminds us it’s not about what we accomplish or how well we perform, but simply about being a child of God. Loved. Held. Whole.
