01/12/2026
The forest in winter does not hurry.
It stands in quiet agreement with the cold.
Each branch resting.
Each root listening beneath the snow.
Stillness is not empty here.
It is full of breath waiting,
of life gathered inward,
of knowing when not to move.
Nothing in the forest apologizes for its pause.
Nothing rushes spring.
Let the snow teach you this.
You are allowed to be quiet.
You are allowed to rest beneath the surface,
until your own stirring begins.
