The Quiet Reset: Finding Space to Be Still After the Storm

January is always a long exhale for me. After the whirlwind of holiday celebrations, travel, togetherness, and to-do lists (all of which are really good), everything inside of me craves quiet. Not just quiet from noise, but quiet from interruptions where I can hear myself—and hear God.

This year, that quiet has become my ritual; my simple morning journaling practice has become a rich thread of peace in my day.

My mornings always start the same way. I stretch. I wash my face. I brew a cup of coffee and sit with my plants. Depending on the year, the light is gentle; my house is dim. It is just me, my journal, and God.

I take time to check-in with myself. What have I carried forward from yesterday? What lingering feelings remain from yesterday or from this morning? What am I holding on to that I can release? I write down everything that I think about, without any judgment (I may as well empty my head!), and I simply watch—don't accept, don't deny.

Next, I turn to gratitude. I mindfully thank God for the breath in my lungs, warmth, my small victories, and very small joys. In this moment of gratitude, there is perspective. And with perspective there is peace.

Third, I now open my action list for the day—not a super structured action list from which I plan a bunch of definitive activities. I have put a lot of hours of time into establishing routines and tasks that restore my energy, on each level. So rather than moving forward, I compare my action list with how I feel in that moment. Am I able to take everything I have placed on my self? Is my plan of action reasonable? Do I need to shift anything? And then I start to edit the action list right there on the page. I cross things off, I scratch things off, I reorder things and I do not complete entire lists of things without guilt.

In that space, I learned to honour. Honour myself bodily. Honour my energy as a true resource, rather than being a mechanical source. To be tender with myself. And it is being tender where you can allow for peace to expand.

Some days this quiet reset feels luxurious. Some days it is mere survival. However, it is always restorative. I am learning that peace is not something we fall into—peace is something we create space for. And this January, that space is in the pages of my journal, one morning at a time.

Reflection Questions:

What could it look like for you to create a quiet reset in your day—where peace, gratitude, and intentionality have the time and space to take root?

I would love to hear from you. Do you have a morning practice, or a journaling habit, that you use to ground yourself? Please share in the comments—your rhythm might inspire the restoration in someone else.

In the quiet, we hear the whisper of God. In the stillness, we remember who we are. May your mornings be filled with grace, and your days overflow with peace.

Your Guide in Grace, Grounding, and Growth

Tracey Lynn

About Me: I’m a somatic therapist and coach dedicated to helping people reconnect with their bodies, cultivate self-compassion, and experience healing that lasts. Through gentle practices, reflective dialogue, and body-based tools, I hold space for restoration—one breath, one choice, one moment at a time. Whether you're navigating burnout, healing past wounds, or simply craving more peace, I'm honored to walk with you on your journey.