Lifestyle
Ten quiet minutes
1 min read ·
Disclosed AI-generated artwork.
The world will take every minute you don’t guard. It isn’t evil. It’s hungry. You have to keep a little for the path, the pier, the inside of your own chest.
Ten minutes. No course. No app that grades your calm. Sit, or walk to the end of the light, or stand where the magenta cloud is doing its last work. Let nobody in. Not even the clever voice that wants to use the quiet to plan.
A life without a pause becomes a life you only remember as noise. The lighthouse isn’t shouting. It’s keeping a small, regular fire.
If ten feels impossible, take five. Then come back tomorrow and take ten. That isn’t a program. That’s how a person stays a person.
Written by
The Chasing Sunsets editor
I write Chasing Sunsets from Edmonton, Alberta. Every line here started as something I said to someone having a bad day — usually on our Facebook page, usually at night.
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