About

The Still Point Practice begins with a simple possibility:

What if the peace, wisdom, and capacity for change we keep searching for are not as far away as we think?
What if we have spent years looking outside ourselves for Serenity, when the place we have been most reluctant to look is within?

I call what gets in the way distortion.
Fear can distort.
So can resentment, regret, anxiety, old wounds, shame, the need to control what happens next, the need to be right, the endless replaying of yesterday, and the constant effort to manage tomorrow.
Over time, those distortions can become so familiar that we mistake them for reality itself.
We begin to see life through them.
We may assume that because we feel afraid, danger must be everywhere.
Because we feel ashamed, we must be unworthy.
Because we have been hurt, we may expect to be hurt again. Because we cannot control what comes next, we may spend enormous energy trying anyway.
For much of my life, I assumed that if I could just find the right answer, the right belief, the right person, the right book, the right treatment, or the right circumstances, peace would finally arrive. I kept looking for something to add.
Over time, I began to wonder whether the work was actually the opposite.
Maybe the work is not always to bring something new into our lives.
Maybe it is to recognize what has become distorted, understand what is getting in the way, and begin clearing a path back to what is already there.
The Still Point Practice is about that work. It is about learning to notice the thoughts, habits, fears, expectations, resentments, wounds, and reactions that distort the way we experience ourselves, other people, and the world around us.
Beneath all of that, I believe there is something quieter and truer.
You might call it conscience.
You might call it wisdom.
You might call it the true self.
I often call it God.
The name matters less to me than learning how to become still enough to recognize it and willing enough to follow where it leads.
That is why I use the word practice.
Peace has rarely come to me because I finally understood the right idea.
Understanding helps, but most meaningful change in my life has come through doing something repeatedly—sitting quietly, paying attention, letting go, accepting what I cannot control, noticing my reactions, forgiving, returning to the present, and beginning again.
Practice does not make life perfect. It helps us see more clearly.
And when we begin to see more clearly, something changes.
We listen differently. We react differently. We become less interested in winning every argument.
We may become a little more patient, a little less afraid, a little more forgiving, and a little more willing to meet another person where they are.
The distortion begins to loosen its hold.
And what changes within us begins to affect what happens around us.
That is the idea behind the words: Inner Work. Outer Ripples. The work begins within, but it does not end there.