Don’t Be Afraid of the “Softer Sand”

I recently penned a piece entitled, “Don’t Be Afraid of the Soft Sand.” In that scenario, the “soft sand” represented the challenges we face in life—the resistance, the hard miles, the grit required to achieve anything of substance. It focused on the “doing” side of life: duty, perseverance, accomplishment.

That is all well and good and deeply ingrained in me after a military career and life as an entrepreneur. But as I transition out of the work-a-day world, I have come to realize our lives must be more than just work. More than the mission. More than the rank, the long hours, or the next promotion.

What about the other side of life…the “softer sand”? In contrast to the metaphor I used before, this “softer sand” isn’t about adversity. It the pause, the contemplation, the savoring of what life has to offer. It represents calm, reflection, and the quiet joy of “being” rather than “doing.” It’s a wander through the woods rather than charging up the next hill.

Some might scoff at that. Many people see this as lethargy and weakness. There’s a tendency, particularly in our culture and certainly in the military, to measure a person’s worth by their productivity. There’s an undercurrent of suspicion toward anything that looks like “slowing down.” After all, isn’t idleness the enemy of progress?

But that critique misses the entire point. I’m not advocating for laziness or apathy. I’m advocating for perspective. There is a time to press forward through the resistance of soft sand—and there is a time to ease into its comfort, to feel its warmth between your toes, to appreciate the view.

This realization hit me the other evening as I sat on the back patio, something I rarely made time for in a more hectic (and perhaps more productive) past. As I looked out across the field to the distant hills, a sense of serenity crept over me. I looked up at the sun shining through the greening leaves. Life is good. Yet, I so very rarely “stop to smell the roses” (a bunch of which we just planted).

To be clear, I’m not promoting a life of leisure without responsibility. I know firsthand that structure and discipline are essential. But I’ve also come to understand that the relentless pace we keep can become its own kind of prison.

It’s tempting to equate worth with output. To measure our value by rank, paycheck, or résumé. But I’m learning that some of the most profound contributions we make are quieter. They’re the moments of undivided attention we give our families. The time we spend truly listening. The willingness to accept the grace we are offered in moments of fatigue.

Think of Jesus. Was He in a hurry? Did He rush from village to village, tracking His progress on a checklist? No. He walked. He paused. He made time for the people in front of Him. And yet, His impact was immeasurable. He lived with urgency—but never with anxiety.

In that light, perhaps the “softer sand” represents not just the stillness of being, but the softer side of us—the part we often tuck away in the name of duty. It’s the part that feels deeply, gives unequivocally, and forgives freely. It’s the part that aches when we lose someone, or swells with pride watching a child grow. It’s the part that plants the roses…”just because.”

After a career (actually multiple careers) where emotions were often tucked neatly beneath a surface, I’m slowly learning to let that part of myself breathe. To honor the quieter strength that comes from empathy, humility, and presence. The softer sand, it turns out, isn’t a retreat from strength – it’s a different expression of it.

Of course, too much time in the softer sand can lead to complacency. I’m not suggesting we give up purpose. But I no longer believe that purpose has to mean constant motion. A meaningful life doesn’t always show up in accolades or bank accounts. Sometimes it’s found in early morning coffee with a friend, a quiet walk in the woods, or an afternoon hitting a golf ball (well maybe some stress there-but you know what I mean).

I used to believe that success was about pushing harder, going further, doing more. Now, I think it’s about knowing when to push—and when to pause. When to speak…and when to listen. When to lead…and when to simply be. Perhaps most importantly, it is about being OK with who and where you are.

And so I’ll say again: don’t be afraid of the “softer sand.” Don’t be afraid to slow down, to breathe deeply, to feel something. Don’t be afraid to make space in your life for joy, for gratitude, for wonder. These are not distractions from the mission. They are the mission.

Because in the end, a life well lived is not measured solely by what we accomplish. It’s measured by how deeply we believe, how intentionally we live, and how courageously we embrace both the tough terrain and the gentle shore.