Is Calm the New Ambition?

On redefining strength, slowing down, and practicing clarity in a world that worships speed.

Hi, I’m Ana. I’m a licensed psychologist and writer exploring the inner landscapes of emotional life — especially the moments that feel messy, uncertain, or quietly transformative.
If you’re new here, welcome. Field Notes from a Psychologist’s Life is where I share poetic reflections, grounded psychology, and stories for people navigating change.

What if calm weren’t something we earned after burnout, but something we practiced into our days — like breath?

This is a quiet meditation on the many meanings of calm: its linguistic roots, the nervous system’s longing, and the ways we often mistake it for passivity when it may, in fact, be power. It draws from Mediterranean and Nordic cultures (my two homes), and from a deeper question:
What kind of calm belongs in the life you're building?

It’s a common desire in therapy: to reach a balanced life, to experience that quiet confidence of “having it all together.”
But what does that even mean?

For many of us, it’s hard to reconcile the desire for balance with the longing for an extraordinary life — and the fear that “normal is just boring.”
We chase a version of calm that still allows room for brilliance, creativity, and deep meaning.

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Having It Together

When can we say we have it together?

Is it when we pay our bills on time?
When we earn a living doing something we love?
When our days are filled with love — or at least enough rest?
Or is it simply when we’re functioning… but functioning with a sense of inner satisfaction?

Because the truth is, many of us are already “holding it together” — while constantly dancing with the fear that one wrong move will unravel it all.

And maybe that’s part of modern life: the subtle anxiety beneath the surface of our routines.

It’s not just about managing life. It’s about feeling alive inside of it.
Paying the bills — and feeling that those bills are part of a life that reflects our values.
Getting through the week — and still remembering moments of joy between the groceries and the laundry.

Somehow, we’ve spiraled into a rhythm of life where everything feels a little too urgent, and ourselves, a little too behind.

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What Kind of Calm Are We Seeking?

“The quieter you become, the more you can hear.”
— Ram Dass

We often speak of calm as if it were a luxury, something external we chase.
But what if it’s an inner quality? Something we can grow into, like a second skin?

I was intrigued by the fact that the word for calm in Portuguese — calma — includes alma, the word for soul. So I got curious about its origins, and what that might mean for our relationship to calm today.

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Calma (Portuguese, Spanish, and Italian)

The word calma comes from Latin cauma, which in turn derives from the Greek kauma — meaning heat, especially the oppressive heat of the midday sun. More specifically, it referred to the rest taken during the hottest part of the day, when bodies would pause and movement would slow down.

In this origin story, calm is not the absence of intensity — it’s the natural pause inside intensity.
A moment of stillness in the burn of life.
The wisdom to stop, not because everything is done, but because it’s time.

The Mediterranean at Le Lavandou (1904) Theo van Rysselberghe (Belgian, 1862-1926)

Lugn och Ro (Swedish)

In Swedish, lugn och ro is often translated as “calm and peace,” but that barely scratches the surface.

• Lugn comes from Old Norse lygn, meaning still, windless — often referring to weather.

• Ro relates to rest or repose, suggesting an internal order, a steady exhale.

One could say that lugn is the calmness of the lake, and ro the peace felt while standing beside it.

Together, lugn och ro conveys a kind of quiet presence — like the hush in a room where everything is where it belongs.
A world held lightly.
A self not needing to prove anything.

Noonday, Lake Noxen, Sweden (c. 1896–1953) Muirhead Bone (English, 1876 – 1953)

So while calma evokes the heat-softened surrender of a Mediterranean pause,
lugn och ro calls forth the cool steadiness of Nordic presence.

Both are gestures toward tranquility — but shaped by different relationships to the world.
One feels almost imposed by nature’s intensity; the other, like a soft merging with it.

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What Do We Project Onto Calm?

These days, calm is often misread — as passivity, blandness, or a lack of urgency.

We’ve been taught to crave excitement, fast growth, and instant results.
So calm can feel like doing nothing, or not doing it fast enough — like falling behind.

But what if calm isn’t the absence of movement…
but the presence of depth?

• Is calm the opposite of excitement — or the soil in which excitement can be felt, rather than chased?

• Is calm passive — or the radical act of not reacting?

• Is calm a lack of urgency — or a refusal to be ruled by artificial urgency?

• Is calm powerlessness — or the most potent form of clarity we have?

“Calmness is the cradle of power.”
— Josiah Gilbert Holland

To move from calm is to move from intention, not impulse.
To act from your center, not your fear.

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The Practice of Calm

We often say, “I want to feel calm,” but we forget:
Calm isn’t a feeling we wait for — it’s a state we can practice into.

It begins in the nervous system.
A body chronically in fight-or-flight mode won’t experience calm as safety — it might even interpret it as boredom, or danger.

So we begin small.

• Slow down. Do things just a little slower. It’s incredible how transformative this simple change can be.

• Give yourself pockets of quiet between tasks. Take time to taste your coffee. Look out the window instead of at your screen.

• Plan in advance. Not to control the future, but to give your mind space to breathe.

• Set time frames that honor your natural rhythm — not someone else’s deadline.

• And most of all: Wear calm as a badge of honour. Not busyness.

We’ve glamorised urgency and overcommitment.
But what if your calm was your proof of arrival?

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Questions for Reflection

• When do you feel at your most calm?

• What does calm look like in your daily life — is it absence of stress, or presence of something deeper?

• What hidden stories do you carry about calm — as weakness, slowness, or failure to keep up?

• In your dream life, how does calm show up?
   – Is it a sign that you’ve made it?
   – Or something you avoid, fearing life would become too quiet, too still, too ordinary?

• What would shift if you let calm be your starting point, not your reward?

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Thank you for reading.
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