There are times in life when inspiration fades and the flow that once felt easy suddenly feels forced. For me, this has always been the quiet signal that a pause is needed. Not a collapse or a shutdown. A pause. A breath. A moment to let my energy find its natural rhythm again.

Recently, my lack of flow was the first clue. I kept trying to push through it. I poured myself into my business while still carrying the weight of my corporate job. That level of pushing was not sustainable, and my body decided to intervene. The health issues that followed became a very real invitation to stop. They pushed me into a pause I had been avoiding.

At first, I resisted it. Then something softened.

I began writing letters to God. Honest, unpolished letters that started with the truth:
I do not know what is next.
I do not know what will bring me joy.
I do not know what wants to come through me.
I trust that you will guide me.

Some days the guidance arrived as a spark in my chest. A knowing. A quiet voice inside that felt like truth. Other days it felt like nothing at all, only stillness. But even that stillness had wisdom in it.

I also returned to nature. I spent a week camping at Myrtle Beach State Park, letting the firelight and ocean air reset my nervous system. Time outside has a way of clearing out the noise so the heart can be heard again. Sitting by a fire, sipping tea, reading and reflecting, and letting myself simply exist brought me back home to myself.

Movement became part of the pause too. Gentle stretching, yoga, and walking helped my body release the tension it had been holding. It often started as a chore, but once I moved past the first few minutes, my body opened and the aches let go. That release reminded me that the body always knows when something is off and when something is ready to shift.

Little rituals also supported me. Writing poems. Journaling. Creating a prayer or an affirmation. Holding a warm cup of tea as if it were ceremony. These tiny acts created a clearing in my mind, making space for inspiration to return without pressure.

The heart of this pause for me has been faith. Not the kind that comes from understanding, but the kind that comes from surrender. I am spending December working through The Source of Miracles, exploring the Lord’s Prayer in a deeper way. When I fall into my heart and speak those words, something inside opens. I cannot define faith yet, but I can feel it waking up.

Here is what I am learning:
A pause is not a setback.
A pause is not a sign of failure.
A pause is a reset. A way for our system to breathe. A way for new clarity to rise.

This week, I am choosing to honor the pause. To trust the spark that comes from stillness. To take only the actions that feel guided and aligned. And to remember that the path forward always becomes clearer when I stop trying to force the breakthrough.

Curious Reflection:
Where could you give yourself permission to slow down this week?