SUBJECT: After a Long Quiet
Hello,
There has been a long quiet here.
Not an ending — more like a season where the words went inward and life asked to be lived instead of spoken. I didn’t know when writing would return, only that it would when it had something to say.
Lately I’ve felt that small inner turning towards again — the sense that something wants to be shared.
So I’m opening the space once more, gently.
When a piece feels complete enough to offer, I’ll send it along.
This is the first one.
Some Days Don’t Ask To Be Understood
Recently I noticed an entire day pass without leaving a conclusion behind. For a long time I wouldn’t have trusted a day like that.
Read the full piece here → [Link to article]
And if this no longer feels like a place you need, please feel free to release it with ease. If it still speaks to you, I’m glad our paths meet here again.
Warmly,
Karen
Some Days Don’t Ask To Be Understood
Recently I noticed an entire day pass without leaving a conclusion behind.
Morning arrived quietly — the kind that doesn’t announce itself as a new beginning. Light settled into the room, tea cooled beside me, and for a while I sat noticing nothing in particular. No clarity, no emotion to follow, no sense that something important was waiting underneath the surface.
For a long time I wouldn’t have trusted such a day.
I used to listen closely to experience, almost the way one searches for a message hidden inside a sentence. If a feeling appeared, I stayed with it until I understood it. If a reaction surfaced, I traced it back to its origin. Life used to feel participatory but also unfinished, as though each moment was asking to be translated into meaning before it could be left behind.
There was sincerity in that focus, but also a quiet tension — the sense that living and understanding were inseparable, and that peace would arrive once enough had been seen clearly.
Lately something has changed in a way I would have missed if I hadn’t taken a pause and looked back.
A mood can pass through now and remain unnamed.
A conversation can end without revealing anything about me.
An unsettled thought can stay incomplete and still release its grip by end of day.
The day hasn’t become clearer, yet it feels more finished.
I still notice things — the way the afternoon light softens spaces, the brief pause before responding to someone, the small relief of not needing to decide what a moment means before letting it go. Experience moves, and instead of following it inward toward explanation, I let it be.
Strangely, this feels more intimate, not less.
Understanding once felt like closeness — as though naming an experience allowed me to meet it fully. But now I sense another kind of contact, one that happens before interpretation. A participation that doesn’t improve or resolve what occurs, only accompanies it.
By evening nothing had been solved, but nothing was waiting to be solved.
The day had lived its whole life without becoming insight.
And in that, there was a quiet kind of rest — the feeling that life had been enough even without being understood.
For the first time, clarity wasn’t required.