Absorption is the second precursor state of being that can lead us to inspiration. If absorption is the end state, stillness is how we get there.. And stillness has a branding problem.
Say the word and most of us picture inactivity: a blank stare, a silent room, a to-do list gathering dust while we “take a moment.” And if you’re a leader, especially one with a calendar that’s packed tighter than a suitcase during the holidays, stillness can feel like the opposite of usefulness.
But stillness isn’t the absence of movement. It’s the presence of something else.
Stillness is dynamic. It’s the internal spaciousness that lets you hear what you already know, notice what you’re missing, and make decisions that are as fast as they are wise. Stillness isn’t a luxury item you buy with a weekend away. It’s a tool. And for inspired leadership, it’s often the tool that comes first.
Stillness: what it is (and what it isn’t)
Stillness is an intentional pause that creates room (mentally, emotionally, sometimes physically) for clarity to arrive. It’s a state of receptive attention. Not checking out. Checking in.
Stillness is not:
- Avoidance. If you’re using “I need space” to dodge a hard conversation, that’s not stillness, that’s procrastination in a yoga outfit.
- Passivity. Stillness can look quiet on the outside while your mind is actively integrating, sorting, deciding.
- Perfection. You don’t have to be zen. You just have to be present.
This is where it helps to meet two of stillness’s close cousins: absorption and flow.
Absorption is when your attention lands fully in one place, reading, listening, creating, solving, with the intent of being.. Flow is when that attention becomes so complete you lose track of time. They’re sisters. Stillness is the doorway they often walk through.
Because to enter absorption, you need the ability to stop scattering yourself. To enter flow, you need enough quiet inside to let the work pull you under—in the best way.
Stillness vs. stagnation (aka: the swamp)
Let’s get one thing straight: stillness is not stagnation.
Stagnation is stuckness. It’s when nothing moves because fear, fatigue, or confusion has parked a car on your motivation and left it there with the hazards on. Stagnation often feels heavy and dull. Stillness feels spacious and alive, even when it’s uncomfortable.
Here’s a quick gut-check:
- Stagnation says: “I can’t.”
- Stillness says: “Not yet. Let’s listen.”
- Stagnation numbs.
- Stillness clarifies.
- Stagnation keeps you circling the same thoughts.
- Stillness interrupts the loop.
The difference isn’t whether you’re moving. The difference is whether you’re aware.
The pause: a cognitive reset you can actually use
In leadership, the pause is rarely dramatic. It’s not a cinematic scene where you stare out a window while meaningful piano music plays. It’s usually three breaths before you answer. It’s the moment you don’t hit send. It’s the half-beat where you choose curiosity instead of defensiveness.
The pause is a reset button for your brain and body.
When you’re rushing, your nervous system tends to default to efficiency: shortcut thinking, reactive patterns, snap judgments. That can be useful when you’re dodging a literal danger. Less useful when you’re navigating nuance like conflict, strategy, culture, growth, change.
Stillness creates a gap between stimulus and response. And in that gap lives your best leadership: discernment, creativity, courage, compassion. The pause gives your mind a chance to widen its lens again. It brings you back to the bigger story, not just the next email.
And creativity? Creativity loves the pause because it needs space to connect dots that don’t line up in a straight line. The best ideas are rarely forced into existence by sheer willpower. They’re noticed because you slowed down enough to see them.
Stillness in leadership: why it precedes wisdom and action
We tend to praise decisiveness. We love leaders who “move fast,” “take action,” “execute.” Those things matter.
But the leaders we trust most aren’t just fast. They’re grounded. They make moves that feel calibrated, not chaotic. They respond instead of react. They don’t confuse urgency with importance.
That kind of leadership has a quiet root system: stillness.
Stillness is where you:
- hear the discomfort you’ve been outrunning,
- notice the pattern you keep repeating,
- sense the decision you’re afraid to make,
- remember what you value,
- and re-enter action from a place that isn’t panic.
Stillness precedes wisdom the way soil precedes growth. You won’t see it in the quarterly report, but you’ll feel it in the culture.
Everyday micro-practices for real life leaders
You don’t need a silent retreat. You need micro-moments, which are small, repeatable pauses that teach your nervous system it’s safe to slow down.
Try one (or two) of these this week:
- The Three-Breath Threshold
Before you walk into a meeting, open a Zoom room, or answer a hard call: three slow breaths. Nothing fancy. Just arrive. - One-Minute “What’s True?” Check-in
Set a timer for 60 seconds. Ask: What’s true right now? What matters most? Write one sentence. - Single-Task the First Five Minutes
Pick the first five minutes of any task and do it without tabs, texts, or bouncing. Let absorption re-enter your life like it pays rent. - The “Don’t Answer Yet” Rule
When you feel the urge to respond immediately (especially emotionally): pause. Draft it, don’t send it. Re-read after a short walk or a glass of water. - Walking Stillness
Take a five-minute walk with no podcast. Just notice: light, sounds, air, your own thoughts. This is stillness in motion. - Meeting Bookends
Start meetings with 20 seconds of silence. End with 20 seconds to reflect: What did we decide? What do we need to do next?
Stillness doesn’t remove your responsibility. It improves your relationship with it.
Because the goal isn’t to do less. It’s to do what matters from a place that’s steady, clear, and creatively awake.
Stillness isn’t the opposite of leadership. It’s the source code.
And if you’re thinking, Cool, but I don’t have time for that, I’ll gently offer this: you don’t have time not to. The cost of constant motion is reactive decisions, diminished creativity, and a life that feels like it’s happening to you instead of with you.
Stillness is how you take your life back, one pause at a time.