Welcome to your Quiet Hour. Stop. Breathe. This is your rest button. Just stop for a moment. And notice. Is your jaw clenched? Are your shoulders raised? Notice—is your brow drawn— or tight? Or is there a sense of queasiness in your stomach? Take this moment, and simply notice what your body feels like right now— without changing anything— without judging anything. Just Notice. Our lives have stormy seasons, catastrophes— moments that leave their imprint on our bodies, long after the storm has passed. But we’re not necessarily talking about storms here. We’re talking about daily life— Normal demands. Ordinary stuff. Yet— we’re still braced. Living in a constant state of vigilance — even a subtle one from a busy life takes a quiet toll. It pulls the body into a kind of readiness that never fully lets up. Muscles stay contracted. Breath stays shallow. The chest slightly constricts. The mind stays a step ahead of each moment, scanning for what might be needed next, or what could possibly go wrong. Over time, this becomes the background hum of daily life— a steady undercurrent of over-extending our energies, rushing, bracing, trying to keep up—crisis or not. And the body shows it in the small, almost invisible contractions that accumulate over time, teaching our brain that we’re not safe—even when we are— and we begin to move through our days from that place, noticing less, rushing more—doing more— carrying a tension that feels ordinary simply because it’s familiar— a way of living that slowly leaves us with… Less ease. Less breath. Less room inside ourselves— until something in us finally asks for another way. And this is where the softening begins. We don’t need to change our productive lives to find ease. Softening simply reminds us that we are not in crisis. And from that place— from meeting ourselves in the moment— and sometimes just for a moment— we remember that we’re okay, that we can handle more than we think, even the full weight of our lives— when we soften first. We don’t need to live in silence. We just need to visit it, often enough that the body remembers what safety feels like, and the mind remembers what clarity feels like. So as you move back into your day, You don’t have to hold anything differently. You don’t have to slow your life to a whisper or step away from what matters to you. Just remember this small doorway that you carry— where you soften. Where the breath loosens and where the moment reminds you— you are not in crisis. Let yourself return to it when you can, if only for a breath. If only for a heartbeat. Because each time you notice— each time you soften, you come back to yourself. You come back to presence. You come back to the quiet truth that you are capable, steady, and more resilient than you feel in the rush of the day. And this— this simple returning— is enough— This is your Quiet Hour. Let’s stop. Breathe. And let’s soften…