The Stillness Between Waves – A Conversation Between Peter Witz and Dr. Graves

Peter Witz: Dr. Graves, there’s something I’ve noticed lately. Even in moments of great change—chaos, even—there’s this quiet in between. Like the space between two waves.

Dr. Graves: Yes, Peter. That is the moment most people overlook. They chase the crash, fear the rise, and ignore the stillness that speaks between both. But that space… it is where the self gathers.

Peter Witz: Why do we rush through it? Why does silence feel like something we need to fill?

Dr. Graves: Because we confuse stillness with absence. But silence is not nothingness. It is the pause before a symphony. The breath before a word. The fertile soil before the sprout breaks through.

Peter Witz: That sounds like what you once called "the hidden current"—the part of life that moves beneath our awareness.

Dr. Graves: Precisely. Beneath the noise of our lives, there is rhythm. A pulse. And every wave—every rise and fall—obeys that rhythm. You can’t hear it when you’re splashing. But if you float… you feel it.

Peter Witz: And when people resist change, are they afraid of that in-between moment?

Dr. Graves: Often, yes. They fear the stillness because it feels like surrender. But true strength lies in knowing when to be still. Not out of fear, but out of trust. The seed does not resist the soil.

Peter Witz: So, it's not the change that overwhelms us—it’s the emptiness we think comes with it.

Dr. Graves: Beautifully said. But that emptiness is a womb, not a void. It’s not where things end. It’s where they begin again.

Peter Witz: Then let’s offer this to the reader: Stop fearing the pause. Listen to it. Sit in the space between your old story and your new one. That is where truth quietly waits.

Dr. Graves: And remember—waves may crash, but it’s the stillness between them that teaches us how to swim.