Stillness isn’t a space my spicy brain enters easily. What my brain lacks in oganization, she tries to make up for in busyness. She never stops throwing out ideas, ruminating on my worries, playing fragments of music, and repeating my to-do list while complaining about said to-do list. I love the idea of stillness, but the reality mostly escapes me.

My busy brain is also, of course, easily distracted, which is why, when I decided to share my year of prompts with all of you, I knew I needed to harness my hyperfocus and schedule all the blog posts now. Otherwise I know I’d be diligent for a month or two, and then forget all about my big idea.

So in the month of November, 2025, I committed to writing and scheduling one inspiration post per day until I had a whole year scheduled. On day four of the project, I found myself suddenly and unexpectedly immersed in a moment of perfect, satisfying stillness. I sat on the small sofa in my studio with a fresh cup of tea, staring out my window. The leaves on the wild cherry tree outside the window were just beginning to shift from green to yellow, and the wind tossed them around joyfully, making my favorite music of wind through leaves. I sipped my tea and watched the leaves and listened to the wind and felt entirely content for just a few moments. My quiet time was interrupted, but it felt significant … as if I’d figured out how to access something I’ve been missing for decades.

So what brought me to that place of stillness? It wasn’t meditation: my mind was nowhere close to empty. Instead, it was full of the moment, full of the beauty of the season, full of joy in the company of the tree I gaze at from my window every day. 

I realized as I enjoyed that moment that the past few days of reflection on various themes, as they apply to creativity, had given my busy brain something to occupy her attention without causing her distress. I didn’t expect such a gift from my little project: I really just wanted to set myself up for a year of creative play. But I had inadvertently given my brain just the right kind of stimulation: an idea to dig into, a theme to explore. A theme that got me ruminating on creativity instead of calamity.

I’ve known for a while now that the usual advice about calming anxiety and intrusive thoughts is ineffective for my AuDHD brain. Just being mindful isn’t enough: for one thing, it’s hard to be mindful when your brain is a tornado. For another, have you seen reality right now? It’s not the most restful place to be present with.

I’m not saying I won’t stay aware of reality. But most of us don’t need to try to be aware of reality: it’s very much in all our faces. What we DO need is to remember how we get to have a say in what piece of reality we engage with most. The horrors will be there in an hour, after I’ve spent some time reflecting on the ways we heal through creativity, or the importance of authentic self expression, or the way creativity brings me joy. 

If you have a spicy brain too, maybe a themed reflection would help you cultivate some moments of stillness. Or maybe you could pull a card from your favorite tarot or oracle deck, not to seek guidance, but to find a topic to ponder, to give your brain something interesting and enjoyable to do. Listen to music that slows you down and helps you breathe deeper. Take a walk without tracking your steps or trying to get your heart rate up, but instead move slowly and observe everything you can about the land around you. (If it’s hard to stay focused on the land around you, try looking for things to take photos of, whether or not you ever share them.) Work on some slow-paced art form like hand stitching or knitting, and let the gentle rhythm of the simple process soothe your body and mind. The relaxation might make space in your consciousness for inspiration to flow.

Questions to ponder:

When was the last time you made space for stillness, even just a few minutes?

How did that moment of stillness affect you?

How do moments of stillness affect your creative practice?

If you can’t remember the last time you enjoyed such a moment, or if it’s been too long: is there a way you could create a little pocket of stillness in your days, even just a few minutes per day, a few days each week?

If the idea of stillness makes you uncomfortable, why do you think that is? Are you okay with that? If not, how would you like to handle your discomfort?

Photo by Nellia Kurme, courtesy of Unsplash.

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