As I sit here at my desk,
I’m listening to smooth jazz…

soft, instrumental, calming.

These quiet moments
are where I find my peace.

There is something about slowing down
that I never fully appreciated before.

Not rushing.

Not thinking ahead.

Just being present
in what is right in front of me.

I look over
and see my cat sitting on her bench,
watching the window

completely focused
on the bird feeder
swaying back and forth.

She loves this.

There’s a quiet patience
in the way she watches.

Never distracted.

Never in a hurry.

Just still…
and present.

Today, there have been yellow finches,
cardinals,
and a couple of blackbirds.

Each one stopping by
for just a moment,
then moving on again.

At one point,
I watched a squirrel
try its hardest
to reach the feeder,
determined to enjoy it too.

It made me smile

watching the persistence,
the small effort
for something simple.

I find myself
just watching…
listening…
writing.

No pressure.

No expectations.

Just allowing the moment
to unfold.

These are the times
I hold onto now.

Not the busy ones.

Not the rushed ones.

But the quiet ones.

The ones that remind me
that peace doesn’t have to be found
somewhere far away.

Sometimes, it’s right here

in the music,
in the stillness,
in the simple rhythm of life
happening around me.

And in this moment,
everything feels still.

This is my peace.

And right now

life is good.

Walking has slowly become another way
of reconnecting with myself
and finding a sense of belonging again.

I shared more about that feeling in
A Sense of Belonging After Stroke: Walking My Way Back.