This week’s reflection is a poem.
It came from a quiet morning where my mind was restless, looking for a way out, something to fix or distract. But instead of leaving, I stayed, and God met me where I was.
If you’ve been there, this one’s for you.
When Meditation Isn’t Working
Morning again.
Five a.m.
not yet light—
just dark-gray clouds
hovering over the lake,
holding their breath,
waiting for dawn.
I sit in the Quiet,
fidgeting,
fussing,
noticing something in me
doesn’t want to stay.
I want to run.
I want to grab my phone
and disappear into scrolling,
letting someone else’s noise
drown out my own.
I want to get up,
pour another cup of coffee,
check something,
fix something—
anything but this.
I want to leave this tired place,
quit this Quietness,
step out of the stillness
before it asks too much of me.
Run.
Not anywhere in particular—
just away
from the weight
of all this endless mind chatter.
Run.
From myself.
From life.
From the stories
that don’t resolve,
from the people
who don’t soften,
from the suffering
that doesn’t make sense.
Run.
Even from You, God—
or maybe just
from the silence
where I get nothing—
not even a small something.
Thoughts run circles
around my mind,
endless,
restless,
as I try to think my way out
of what I feel
or don’t feel.
But even there
I notice—
I’m running.
And You,
deep inside me,
whisper back:
I see you.
I don’t cling to the words.
I don’t lift them up
like some praise-the-Lord chorus.
I just say it—
plain,
raw,
unpolished:
Yes, God,
I want to run.
The lake
doesn’t rise in heavenly mist.
The gray clouds
don’t split open
into glorious sunshine.
No chorus of angels
break through the heavens
singing hallelujah.
Just this:
breath
in,
breath
out,
feet on the floor,
hands on my chest,
and a small, stubborn choice:
I’m staying.
Here in the Quiet.
I’m staying.
Sitting.
Not forever.
Not heroically.
Just for now.
And maybe
nothing changes—
not in me,
not in the world.
Or maybe
this is the change:
that I remain
without leaving,
that I trust
without seeing,
that I sit
like the morning itself—
unhurried,
unresolved,
slowly becoming light.
—brian
Where this poem rose from
This poem rose from one of my monthly weekend God dates.
I had escaped for a few days to my cottage and was sitting in my beach hut, watching the lake as morning slowly unfolded.
But I didn’t want to sit there.
I wanted answers.
I wanted life to change.
I wanted people to change.
I was tired of life
jabbing new wounds
into my skin.
I wanted to heal.
I wanted to feel joyful.
I wanted to flip a switch.
But there was no switch to flip.
There was only the Quiet.
And me admitting to God
I want to run.
As I sat there, the phrase that rose up was this: patient trust.
At first, even those words felt like a stick poking into my wounds.
But I stayed with them.
And slowly, this poem became the words God melted into my heart.
That morning in the beach hut, I didn’t find answers.
I didn’t resolve the tension I carry about life, people, or the slow work of God.
But beneath it all, I found what I was really looking for:
Comfort.
God’s comfort.
Not solutions.
Not clarity.
Not even change.
Just comfort.
And in the Quiet,
in ways I didn’t plan
and still don’t fully understand,
I felt comfort.
In my body.
In the stillness.
In the simple act of staying.
In the three deer walking slowly along the hillside, unaware of me.
Was that God?
I don’t know.
But I felt Presence.
And that day,
it was enough.
—brian plachta
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If you’ve been longing for a deeper, more peaceful way of experiencing God in everyday life, I’m hosting a free workshop called What’s the Contemplative Tradition… and What’s in It for Me?
In this workshop, we’ll explore what the contemplative path actually is, why so many of us were never taught it, and simple, practical ways to begin integrating it into your daily life.
It’s a simple, grounded introduction to a more life-giving way of walking with God.
Workshop Details
Date: Tuesday, May 5, 2026
Time: 7:00–8:30 p.m. Eastern
Location: Online via Zoom
Cost: Free
Register here: https://www.findingflowlife.com/whats-the-contemplative-tradition-workshop
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If you’re seeking a gentler start to your mornings—one you can carry with you into your day to find more inner peace—I invite you to join DivineFlow Daily, a free short reflection and quote sent to your inbox each day. In under a minute, it’s meant to help you slow down, breathe, and remember what truly gives life before the noise sets in.
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