As I sit here listening to the rain, everything feels slower. The noise of the world fades a bit, and what’s left is whatever I’ve been carrying inside. Rain has a way of doing that. It strips the day down. No distractions. No performance. Just thoughts, memories, and the truth you usually outrun.
Moments like this remind me how often we stay busy just to avoid sitting with ourselves. We fill every quiet space because silence forces honesty. But reflection is not weakness. It’s maintenance. It’s how you check the condition of your heart before the damage spreads. The rain doesn’t rush. It falls steady, patient, unapologetic. There’s something grounding about that.
Sometimes clarity doesn’t come from answers. It comes from stillness. From letting yourself feel without fixing, explaining, or numbing it. As the rain hits the ground, I realize that growth doesn’t always announce itself loudly. Sometimes it happens quietly, in moments where you finally slow down enough to listen. And if you’re willing to sit there long enough, you’ll hear what you need to hear.
Here are some journal prompts for you…
What thoughts or emotions surface for me when everything gets quiet and I stop distracting myself
What have I been avoiding sitting with lately and why does it feel uncomfortable
What truth about myself feels clearer when I slow down and actually listen
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Stillness will tell you the truth if you stop running long enough to hear it
