02.27.2026 A Moment to Breathe This week, as many on the east coast experienced, we had a mighty snowstorm blow through where I live on the eastern shore of Nova Scotia. In anticipation of the storm, I felt anxiety creeping in, the to-do list of things building up — groceries, laundry, and general power outage preparation. In my rush to get it all done, I started to crave the moment when the snow finally arrives, and there’s no choice but to stay inside, do nothing at all, and just take a breath. On thinking this, I had to laugh. Why should I wait to be completely snowed in to just breathe? Perhaps, powerful weather can give us permission to slow down, to find a moment of inward reflection, but surely, we can find this within ourselves, at any time (and no shoveling required). Whether it’s through a formal sitting practice, or mindfulness in everyday activities, allowing ourselves to just be, and removing ourselves from the outer feeling of productivity, is essential. The three pieces below remind us that “doing nothing,” is a practice that allows us to just be. I hope they give you the permission to take a moment to yourself this weekend, whatever that may look like. —Martine Panzica, assistant digital editor, Lion’s Roar Nothing to Fix, Nowhere to Go What reveals itself when you do nothing at all? Vanessa Zuisei Goddard on the practice of “just sitting.” Imagine yourself for a moment as that metaphorical sitter in the forest, situated in the middle of a clearing around which danger lurks just out of sight. Like an animal facing a threat, your attention must be utterly focused. Yet it must also be completely receptive and relaxed. To respond appropriately, you must enter the liminal space between absolute stillness and all-encompassing awareness. It is here, Courtois says, in the place where all thought and movement are stilled, that awakening takes place. It is here that we find the source of the subtle radiance that, as so many Buddhist teachers have said throughout the centuries, is our natural state of mind. The key to finding — or rather uncovering — this radiance lies in the word just of “just sitting.” ADVERTISEMENT Snow Salutations Yoga practitioner Alison Wearing discovers how to appreciate the moment, even in the great white north. Recently we returned to rural Ontario, to the snow and the cold and a shy, reluctant sun. Here there are bare trees and a new color, gray — varieties of it everywhere. There’s silence — the stillness of ice and a long, annual death. And there are people less inclined to spontaneous fiestas than to going home, closing the door, and staying there. It has been an adjustment, this move to the eastern shore of Lake Huron, a hundred and fifty miles northwest of Toronto. Since arriving here, my vocabulary has increased by two compound words: the first is “storm-stayed,” an adjective that describes the condition of being unable to go out due to excessive snowfall — prolonged whiteouts being a regular occurrence in this area. My son’s teacher once went to a friend’s house for dinner and was storm-stayed there for six days. Doing Nothing Karen Maezen Miller on how meditation helps her bring “doing nothing” into everything she does. A regular meditation practice is the last thing that prevents me from totally engaging in activity. It helps me do more even as I think about it less. Hidden in the question is how preoccupied we are with “to-doing” rather than doing. To-doing or should-be-doing takes up quite a bit of time. It could well be the principal occupation of our lives: imagining scenarios, planning strategies, fretting outcomes, second-guessing choices and then sticking the whole rigmarole back into the familiar rut that’s so hard to get out of. Emptying the mind of that kind of doing opens it up to a spontaneous and creative undoing that is quite marvelous and, I dare say, breathtaking. I loved it when Amanda Palmer of the Dresden Dolls described how the best songs come “like singing telegrams” during meditation. Working toward a deadline, sitting ignites my writing when I least expect it. These days I carry a tiny notepad to the cushion to record passages that arrive when I am going nowhere and doing nothing. I’m done in no time, although it’s not my goal.