Day 28: The Pause Before the Close

A quiet moment between what was and what’s coming next.

Today, I find myself in a quiet, reflective space.

A deep breath.

A long exhale.

It’s strange, this feeling, like standing on the shoreline at dusk, watching the tide change, when like when I'm out hiking. I’ve shown up to this space every day for the past 28 days, pouring words onto the screen, releasing stories that had been waiting in the wings. And now, with just a couple of days left in this month-long journey, I feel... tender.

Tender with gratitude.

Tender with uncertainty.

Tender with hope.

There’s something beautiful about routines that ask for honesty. Writing each day has been more than just an exercise in discipline, it’s been a lifeline. A mirror. A soft landing for my thoughts and emotions. And I’ve grown to rely on it.

So what happens now? What do we do when a rhythm we’ve grown used to begins to fade?

We pause.

We listen.

We honor the transition.

I’m not feeling well again today, so for my own mental health, I’m taking it easy.

That, too, is part of the practice, honoring what I need in the moment, even if that means pulling back instead of pushing through.

I’m not rushing to fill the silence that’s coming.

Instead, I’m letting it whisper to me. I’m leaving space for what’s next to unfold gently, without pressure or urgency.

Starting in June, I’ll begin interviewing artists who, like me, found their way to creativity through struggle, who turned to art not for applause, but for survival. I’m excited for that new rhythm, one voice at a time, each month until December.

But for now, I’m sitting with the stillness of this moment.

And letting it be enough.

Gentle Assignment:

Take ten minutes today to sit quietly with the ending of something meaningful in your life, a season, a practice, a belief, a version of yourself. Write a few sentences or sketch a small image that represents that transition. Don’t try to resolve it. Just witness it.

"Healing doesn’t always look like movement—sometimes it looks like sitting still, breathing deep, and trusting the pause." Michelle Joy Brown

Artwork on this page by artist Michelle Joy Brown

A Quiet Unfolding: Acrylic on canvas. 12”×16”

In stillness, something meaningful begins to shift.

This piece emerged during a time of reflection and rest, like a visual exhale.

Each petal drifts in its own rhythm, unhurried, reminding us that healing doesn’t always announce itself.

Sometimes, it simply unfolds.

Your Blossoming Art Friend 🌼

Michelle Joy Brown

Your financial support really does go towards helping this artist purchase supplies to continue painting and entering exhibitions as well as selling art. I'm a full-time artist now, all monies I earn supports my continued journey.

Thank you for your support and love. 🥰🥰

© 2025 Michelle Joy Brown. All rights reserved.

No part of this content or artworks, may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the author.