Growing up, you had to be quiet sometimes. You had to wait. The crops don't care if you want to say something—they grow on their own time. The animals need feeding whether you're in a good mood or a bad one. My grandmother used to sit outside in the evening and just look at the sky for an hour. She'd just sit. I used to think she was bored, but now I understand she was thinking. She was letting her mind work the way the land works—slow, deep, purposeful.

I notice that a lot of people my age are always talking, always explaining, always performing something. They're tired from it, I think. Even when they seem happy, there's something exhausted underneath. I've realized I don't want to be like that 💪

There's power in knowing when to speak and when to let silence do the work. When you say less, people listen more carefully to what you actually do say. When you're not always trying to convince everyone that you're interesting, you get to just... be. And somehow that's more interesting than all the talking ever was.

My life feels more real now that I've learned to be quiet. My thoughts are clearer. My work is better because I'm paying attention instead of planning what to say next. Even my relationships are better because I'm actually present instead of always trying to manage how I'm being perceived 🌱

Have you noticed that the people who seem most sure of themselves are often the ones who say the least?