silence

After the Noise, the Listening

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth

Where seasons reach out to one another, the change is purposeful.

There is a moment after the holidays that often goes unnamed.
The lights dim, the schedules loosen and the energy makes a quick shift.
What remains is full of information.

The body is still processing.
The heart is still sorting.
The nervous system is recalibrating after intensity, whether that intensity came from joy, grief, connection, separation, or expectation.

This is not a time to decide who you are or where you’re going next.
This is a time to be most present and purposeful.

What you feed your mind right now matters.
What you allow into your presence matters.
What you replay, what you consume, what you dwell in, all of it becomes structure.

Not because it’s right or wrong,
but because attention builds architecture.

What you notice stabilizes.
What you resist persists.
What you listen to teaches you
where alignment already exists.

This is where renewal actually begins,
not with resolutions,
not with pressure,
not with fixing anything,
but with purpose.

Are you moving through the day with kindness or resistance?
Are you feeding your body nourishment or distraction?
Are your thoughts pulling you backward, or allowing you to arrive fully here?

The past is a foundation, not a destination.
Memory can guide, but it cannot lead.

You don’t step forward by erasing what was.
You step forward by using it as experience,
by choosing a slightly different turn,
by experimenting with one small shift.

A new path doesn’t announce itself loudly.
It opens quietly when you’re willing to listen.

The forest doesn’t explain itself.
It invites you to breathe
and discover what is already alive.

Today doesn’t ask you to change your life.
It asks you to notice it.

Gentle Practice:
Lower the volume, just a little.
Less input, more purpose.
Ask one simple question, without needing an answer:
What is available to me right now?

-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Tomorrow, we explore change and how small shifts in attention can quietly realign an entire season.

The Weight of Waiting

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 

“Silence does not mean nothing is happening, quite the opposite.”

October opened with a heaviness, not loud, not rushed, but dense as fog pressed against the cove. The silence was misleading. It seemed still, but beneath it, movement gathered, papers shuffled behind closed doors, decisions were being made in rooms unseen.

Life on the surface looked the same, driveways quiet, doors closed, familiar cars passing by with eyes fixed forward. Not confrontation, not kindness, just avoidance. In some ways, it was easier that way, silence was less piercing. But silence has its own edge, and it reminds you to listen deeper.

Waiting can feel endless. But October has its way of reminding all senses, nothing is truly still. Branches bend, shadows lengthen, and tides always shift. The question is not if movement comes, movement is part of stillness, it is in the beat of every heart while stillness is working. It is the pulse of life all around while stillness is practiced, stillness does not work alone, it works with the gratitude that both can be felt at the same time.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Tomorrow, the silence will feel different, the air is changing and the stillness is surrounded by movement. Do you notice the movement around you when you are still or in stillness do you tune out movement around you?

The Weight of October

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 

“October does not whisper, it insists on being heard.”

October presses in heavy, as if the month itself carries a deeper silence and stillness than others. It was not the silence of rest, but of gathering, like a sky swelling with thunder too far to hear but close enough to sense.

Leaves spiraled down in surrender, yet the air felt charged. What was unseen carried more weight than what was in front of the eyes. It was the knowing that work was being done behind the veil, that pieces were moving, even when the surface remained calm.

The cove reflected it undeniably. Smooth, glass-like water with a current beneath, invisible yet undeniable. It was not the question of if the silence would break, but when. The stillness is never truly still and the silence is never truly silent, but instead an explanation with a heartbeat.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Tomorrow, the weight of October will shift into sound , the waiting has shifted to movement and the silence has erupted with strength only October can serve in this way.

Category: suspense story
Tags: suspense, October, lake, fog, silence, reflections, transformation, mystery, solitude

When the Fog Breathes

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 “The fog does not hide the truth, it prepares us to see it.”

A veil across the water,
a breath between the ripples,
the cove keeps what is stirring,
while silence slowly hides.

Not in absence, but a waiting,
not gone but not yet near,
the fog breathes out its secret,
then pulls it back with intention.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-
By tomorrow, the breath of the fog will not be enough, movement will rise.

When Silence Speaks

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 

“Fall teaches us that letting go is not the fall, but the space for something unseen to begin.”

This week unfolded like a painting of new tones, branches cracking, geese lifting into the fog, chickadees daring to trust the hand awaiting with wonder. Silence, though not empty, was alive, a shifting presence carrying both warning and wonder.

The cove reminded us that even in stillness, transformation is never far. Leaves fall, trees splinter, shadows stretch, but in the letting go, something is always preparing to begin again.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-
Next week, the fog will arrive, and with it, shapes that will not stay hidden. What will you see in the fog?

Cracks in the Quiet

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 “Even silence has a breaking point.”

The forest doesn’t hold its breath,
it lives within them,
it sends a hush before the Fall,
as geese cut through the sky.

The silence cracks wide open,
and stillness tells it all,
branches bow then splinter,
yet roots refuse to fall.

The lake reflects the fracture,
as ripples circle wide,
shadows stretch their fingers,
with nowhere left to hide.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-

Truth doesnt stay down, it seeks the surface to be found. By tomorrow, the cracks will spread, revealing more than silence can contain.

Echoes in the Stillness

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 “Stillness carries echoes louder than any storm.”

Branches bow then break unseen,

a gust decides what might have been.

Shadows move where no one stands,

truth rests quiet in shifting lands.

Water shares its reflection all around,

and time is nowhere to be found.

Perception leads the way while emotions

dance and sway. 

Wonder is everywhere within reach,

and wings leave fragments guiding peace.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-


By tomorrow, the stillness will no longer wait—it will press closer.

When the Silence Cracks

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth

 “Even in the stillness, the storm learns to whisper its secrets through the trees.

The cove held its breath, a canvas washed in muted tones of gray and gold. Every ripple on the lake mirrored the sky’s hesitation, as if water and air had made a silent pact not to disturb what was shifting beneath.

Then came the sound, sharp, brittle, alive. The crack of wood surrendering after months of summer dryness. A tree gave way, carving its own path with no regard for what it might strike. The silence before and after was as loud as the fall itself.

Somewhere between the rush of the wind and the echo of impact, time stretched thin. It was no longer about a tree, or even the danger of where it landed. It was about the reminder that nothing stands forever untouched. Even what feels steady can be remade in a single breath of change.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-


Tomorrow, silence will shift again, not by breaking, but by carrying a voice that does not belong to the wind.

The Shadow Between Houses

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth

 “Distance is an illusion when silence carries across the same ground.”


Evening softened across the cove, folding light into shadow. From the living room window, I saw a figure move, not hurried, not hiding, but steady. A quiet presence crossing the space where one yard ends and another begins, a place where no one claims ownership, and yet everyone’s life touches.

The air seemed to hold them gently, carrying the sense that some movements are not meant to be announced but simply witnessed. No doors closed, no alarms stirred, only the silence of night receiving what passed through it.

I thought of how often our lives cross this way, not in grand gestures, but in quiet intersections, unnoticed until later, when we realize how deeply one path has brushed against our own.

It was not about fear, but about remembering, even in stillness, stories are walking beside us. Even in silence, lives overlap, and sometimes we don’t see the meaning until long after the steps have faded.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-


And as morning dew traced the grass, faint steps remained, a gentle reminder that we are never alone in the crossing, even when the path feels solitary.

The Guest of Stillness

Posted on by Kerri Elizabeth


 “Every silence asks what you will do with it.”


The evening gathered gently, as if the air itself wanted to sit down beside me. There was no rush of voices, no urgency of sound, only a pause that stretched long enough for me to notice my own heartbeat.

Stillness often arrives uninvited, yet it is never without purpose. It presses on the corners we overlook, draws us toward what we would rather set aside. It doesn’t demand an answer, only presence. To stay with it long enough to learn what it is showing.

In that pause, I realized stillness is not empty. It carries questions:
What needs my attention?
What needs to be left in peace?
What requires change?
What asks me to wait?

And deeper still, it asks: When the time comes to speak, what will my presence leave behind?

Our impact is not only in words but in the silence that shapes them, in the choices that decide whether we react or respond. Stillness reminds us: we are responsible for the wake we create, even when we believe we are standing still.

-Kerri-Elizabeth-


And in the quiet that followed, I felt it, the weight of choice. Tomorrow would not ask me to fill the silence, but to honor it, and to let my answer carry intentions.