I could never sit still as a kid. The threat to "stay still" is something I remember from my childhood almost as vividly as "keep your hands off you sister!" Now, as a parent, if I ever lament Charlie's wiggle worming, whether it is at bedtime or some other less frustrating time, my folks just smirk and straight out declare it as my fate. I am destined or doomed to have a child who is as itchy and restless as I was...or am.

 

I am not fooling anyone with my mature version of restlessness. It has simply changed over the years into something more productive and in some ways even more troublesome. Motivation becomes obsession; drive becomes exhaustion; striving becomes weariness. So, in order to find balance in these things, staying still becomes the goal all over again.

 

In the past few years I've begun to suspect that being still has much more to offer than just perpetuating a state of laziness and apathy...believe it or not. When all the working harder and longer doesn't satisfy the end result or just stops being satisfying what else is there to do? Something else? Anything else? Nothing at all? Be still.

What I've found is the very thing I thought would squelch my enthusiasm or motivation is instead the thing that gives me enough clarity and energy to let things be just as they are. It allows me to see where change is necessary, where slowing down is restful and instead of feeling like I've failed I begin to believe that maybe I am being courageous in a way I've never been before.

So, like change, being still is terrifying and wonderful at the same time. And I say that in the midsts of the both. It's been with a lot of patience and attention (and many moments of utter fright) that Kristen and I take this next leap.

Come February 2, the studio is undergoing yet another change, one that will facilitate more simplicity and dedication to what it is we do at the core -- wink, wink.