Finding the Still Point in Healing

In one of my last posts, I wrote about the tug-of-war between the gym and the spa. Between grit and surrender. Many of you told me you resonated with the idea of “graceful power”—a way of moving and living that doesn’t demand extremes but honors what your body truly needs.

Today, I want to go deeper into this idea. Because healing—real, cellular, deep healing—often asks us to pause in a place I call the still point.

The Still Point: A Pause That Heals

This photo reminds me of neurotransmitters dancing in interstitial fluid.

In craniosacral therapy, there’s a moment when the body’s rhythm—its gentle tide of expansion and contraction—comes to a stop. For a few seconds, there is only quiet. No push, no pull. The nervous system and its fluids rest.

Clients sometimes describe this moment as “suspended peace,” or “like floating between worlds.” Physiologically, it’s where the body reorganizes itself. Spiritually, it’s where we touch a deeper current.

The still point reminds us: healing doesn’t always come from doing more. Sometimes it comes from allowing what is already within us to reset. We can’t always find stillness alone, and craniosacral work can offer that supportive reset—a doorway into a little more graceful power.

The Meditative Still Point: A Mirror for Daily Life

Of course, not every still point happens on the treatment table. In daily life, reaching a meditative still point is less about tissues and fluid rhythms, and more about the truth reflected back to us when we pause.

And that truth isn’t always serene. Often, it asks us to look at our authenticity. To notice when we’ve been over-judgmental, or when we’ve dismissed the beauty in ourselves. To feel the places where we’ve armored up.

When the body—or the spirit—lets go of old patterns, it doesn’t just say “thank you” and move on. It remembers. It grieves.

Grief as Part of Healing

When I have trouble letting thoughts drift by like clouds, I turn toward journaling. Because the five phases of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—aren’t just about losing a loved one. They show up whenever we release old identities, habits, or protective layers.

Finding our center as we are pulled in multiple directions.

• Denial: “This tightness in my hip isn’t that bad. I can live with it.”

• Anger: “Why is this happening to me? Why now?”

• Bargaining: “If I stretch more, maybe I won’t need to slow down.”

• Depression: “This is too much. I’ll never feel better.”

• Acceptance: “Yes, this is my body’s truth. And yes, I can meet it with compassion.”

  
  

Healing is rarely linear. You may cycle through these phases again and again. But with each round, you loosen another knot, free another breath, uncover another piece of yourself.

Graceful Power in Daily Life

Graceful power is not about being endlessly strong, nor endlessly soft. It’s about knowing when to engage, when to rest, and when to allow the still point—whether in bodywork or in daily meditation—to emerge.

It might look like:

• Choosing a walk in the sun over a punishing workout.

• Letting yourself cry during a treatment, instead of apologizing for tears.

• Pausing between tasks to feel your feet on the ground.

• Waking up before your alarm if your body is ready for it—and jogging in the crisp morning.

  
  

An Invitation

If you are moving through migraines, endometriosis, chronic tension, or simply the exhaustion of modern life—you are not broken. You are being asked to pause, to listen, to grieve what has been held too long, and to welcome the graceful power already inside you.

In the still point—whether found on a treatment table or in your quiet morning breath—you don’t lose yourself. You come home.

My small but graceful porch garden. It gives me joy even though it is quite tiny!

With care, 

Dr. Debra