The Open Draft is my weekly letter about healing, memory, and reclaiming your voice. Each post is a raw, evolving draft that invites reflection and real connection. Subscribe to join me every Saturday. No noise, no polish—just truth in motion.
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I'm so paused.I'm not sure if that even makes sense but it sounds right. For the past few weeks, I've been off the grid. No newsletters. No posts. Just silence. Why? My mother-in-law passed away. And in order to grieve, to support my husband, and to show up for his family, I pressed pause. And at first, it felt strange. we treat stillness like a malfunctionWe live in a world that worships productivity. If you're not doing something, making something, documenting something, it's like you've disappeared. There's this gnawing feeling that if you stop moving, everything will crumble around you. The revelation that changed everything for me: stepping away isn't abandonment of purpose but honouring the natural rhythm that sustains all living things the necessary inhale before the exhale. It's wisdom. It's necessary. And, paradoxically, it's one of the most powerful things you can do for your brain. what the ancients knew (and we forgot)The Stoics had a word: ataraxia. It means a lucid state of calm, free from anxiety. The idea wasn't to chase happiness or grind endlessly but to cultivate a kind of mental stillness, an unshakeable inner peace. Blaise Pascal (the mathematician-turned-philosopher) once said, "All of humanity's problems stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone." Turns out, he was onto something. Research shows that when we allow ourselves to PAUSE........ we access deeper levels of creativity, clarity, and resilience. We reset. We process. We grow. here's what nobody tells youPausing feels uncomfortable at first. If you're used to running on adrenaline, stillness can feel like withdrawal. Your brain will itch for distractions. You'll feel guilty. You'll wonder if you're falling behind. Do it anyway. The pause isn't the enemy. The pause is where everything integrates. It's the space where healing happens, ideas form, and perspective sharpens. The world won't stop spinning if you step back. But when you return, you'll be clearer, sharper, and more aligned than before. what to do nowThis week, I invite you to turn your curiosity inward. When you notice that impulse to fill every quiet moment with noise, with tasks, with distraction - pause and listen to what it's trying to tell you. Then, give yourself permission to do something that feels almost forbidden in our busy world: simply be. Find a comfortable spot. Let your gaze soften. Breathe deeply. Release the weight of constant doing. In that sacred stillness, you might discover the very thing your soul has been whispering for: the clarity, the peace, or the answer that couldn't reach you through all the noise. I'm learning this journey alongside you. When we make space for pause, we make space for healing. Until next time, embrace the quiet moments. They're speaking to you. Be gentle with yourself, and remember: sometimes the most profound notes are written in silence. Your friend, Lisa Marie ***** Love this email? Forward this to a friend so they can get in on the action and sign up below
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The Open Draft
The Open Draft is my weekly letter about healing, memory, and reclaiming your voice. Each post is a raw, evolving draft that invites reflection and real connection. Subscribe to join me every Saturday. No noise, no polish—just truth in motion.
Somewhere between seven and sorrow, we moved to Big Bend—a sugar mill town where the air smelled like ash and summer fizzed like Coca Cola. I must’ve been seven or eight. My parents had just divorced. My father worked at the Sugar Mill, and the village was filled with expats, heat, and a country club with tennis courts and a high school I was too young for. What I remember most is this:In June, they burned the sugar cane.Black snow would rain from the sky.Ash floating, weightless, like...
I've been quiet here, but not because I've stopped writing. Truth is, I've needed a space that lets me move more slowly. Where the stories didn’t need to be polished—only honest.Where I could write from the raw edge of memory and meaning. That space is The Open Draft my new publication on Substack. It’s where I’m writing essays that live closer to the bone, mirroring the work I’m doing on my book. If you’ve ever felt alone in your healing journey, or longed to make sense of where you come...
I'm too old. How many times have you said that? How many dreams have you buried under that excuse? Maybe you've thought about switching careers, learning a new skill, or starting something completely different. But then the voice creeps in: You should have done this years ago. It's too late now. It's not. And I have proof. the real stories that say otherwise I've been collecting comments from people just like you. People who thought they were "too old" to start again—but did it anyway. They...