Stillness Is the Key by Ryan Holiday

came to occasionally regret his complete solitude. Was there more he
could do as a man of the world? Could he have a bigger impact if he
abandoned his solitude?
Indeed, very few of us are willing or able to make it the totality of
our existence, nor should we. (The dancer Twyla Tharp points out
that “solitude without purpose” is a killer of creativity.) Even in
Merton’s case, he was given special privileges from his church
superior to communicate with the outside world through letters and
writing, and eventually began to travel and speak to large crowds.
Because his work was too important and the insights he discovered
were too essential to remain locked up in a tiny brick house on the
edge of the woods in Kentucky.
Merton eventually came to understand that after so much time by
himself in the woods, he now possessed solitude inside himself—and
could access it anytime he liked. The wise and busy also learn that
solitude and stillness are there in pockets, if we look for them. The
few minutes before going onstage for a talk or sitting in your hotel
room before a meeting. The morning before the rest of the house
wakes up. Or late in the evening after the world has gone to sleep.
Grab these moments. Schedule them. Cultivate them.