To Look at Any Thing by John Moffitt
To look at any thing,
If you would know that thing,
You must look at it long:
To look at this green and say,
“I have seen spring in these
Woods,” will not do—you must
Be the thing you see:
You must be the dark snakes of
Stems and ferny plumes of leaves,
You must enter in
To the small silences between
The leaves,
You must take your time
And touch the very peace
They issue from.
Many years ago, early in our relationship, my husband shared this poem with me. He somehow knew just how to reach the softest parts of my heart— still does. I’ve loved it ever since.
There are countless interpretations you can find online, but like a favorite song, poetry lives in personal resonance. For me, this piece has always been about being with rather than doing to. About learning not by watching from the outside, but by stepping into the quiet center of something—and becoming it.
This idea sits at the heart of my work as a coach.
In our fast-paced, outcome-focused world, we often approach change through action: “Just tell me what to do.” We try to do our way into being. But sustainable wellness—especially for cancer survivors—asks something more honest and more radical: to slow down, to listen, to become the person who does those things. Not by force. But by presence.
You must enter in
To the small silences between
The leaves...
That’s the invitation of coaching. Not to hustle harder, but to attune. To enter the “small silences” between habits, between choices—where self-trust, intuition, and clarity reside.
In health coaching, we talk a lot about the Knowing-Doing Gap. But beneath that is another layer: the Being Gap. Clients often say, “I know what to do. I just can’t seem to do it.” But transformation rarely starts with doing more. It starts with being different. And that shift often begins in stillness.
When I began my own journey to reclaim strength and wellness after cancer, I had to stop grasping for control and instead listen more deeply to the woman I was becoming. That quiet alignment made space for new choices to take root—sustainably, compassionately, and with room for joy.
This is what I guide my clients toward:
A deeper connection with their post-cancer bodies
A release of shame and urgency
Small, steady steps that reflect who they are becoming
And space to breathe in the small silences of change
So today, I invite you to pause.
Look again.
And enter in.