Quiet...Stillness
It’s now a new year, according to the calendar, but time is mysterious to me. I’ve been home so much due to Covid that I lose track of the days and carefully check my calendar to see what I have written that I have committed to doing—that’s if I’ve remembered to write it down. I have been in a non-doing mode and am surprised that I am content and appreciative of the quiet of our home and my slower pace.
I savor the peace that comes by sitting on the sofa and reading a good book and listening to the sound of water flowing in the small fountain that rests on the floor nearby. There are plants in the living room bringing inside a touch of nature and a large window and door across from the sofa that presents a view of the outside. We have some evergreens on the perimeter of the yard so there is green amidst the brown and grey of frozen earth and leafless trees. I feel fortunate that we have heat, indoor plumbing, and food to eat and…I can still go up and down our stairs. I hold onto the rail now and don’t run up and down like I used to but this slower pace lets me see and feel more.
The stillness, the quiet is precious. I know it won’t last so have decided to savor each moment. I sometimes talk about effortless effort and letting be. What a relief not to strive or push. It surprises me that I am not anxiously worrying about my use of time or having to be productive. In teaching Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction I sometimes read a poem. This is a tradition that began with Saki Santorelli that we teachers followed. I like poetry but never really appreciated it as a form of communication that can express meaning in a condensed way. Sometimes I’ll read a poem without fully taking in its message yet, over the years without my realizing it some of its words have taken root and become a part of me. Below is an excerpt from “Keeping Quiet” by Pablo Neruda which during this pandemic and aging has fresh meaning to me.
“What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about
I want no truck with death.
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth is teaching us
as when everything seems to be dead
and then everything is alive..”
How wonderful to remember that everything is alive. Feeling my breath, moving my body, smiling at a stranger, or opening my computer and being connected to others: a miracle. How easy it is to take for granted what is working—until it no longer works.
I began this blog last night and this morning as I continue writing it’s snowing. When you read this it will have stopped. Now I am comfortable and it is lovely to look out the window and see the snow, white and pristine, but we are subject to power outs and I wonder whether we’ll continue having heat and electricity and then I catch myself worrying, stop, smile and look out the window. I’ve always felt that meditation practice must be practical but sometimes I forget how important it is to wake up to life itself and STOP and appreciate the miracle of stillness and safety that I feel right now. I savor this moment of peace. It will pass, everything does. Busyness can help me forget the truth of impermanence and the uncertainty of the future but does it help? Perhaps. Sometimes. Life can be difficult and there are times when we can be overwhelmed, and we need to take a break and a breath. Wisdom tells us when to stop and take a break to rest, restore and recover. We can appreciate that too. Then we can be resilient and take care of what needs to be done. Now, however, the heat is on in the house and I can sit here and do nothing. The miracle of technology let me lead a morning meditation on Zoom. Attendees are far apart in miles but close in heart. How wonderful to be in community. Together we stop..we be..and treasure what is here now.
The Aging with Wisdom group meets this coming week and I'd love to have you join us. We will meet Thursday, January 13th at 11 AM Eastern time in the U.S. If you are newly joining the group, please register here.
I invite you to STOP and note one thing that is normally not acknowledged that can be appreciated. Do this as often as you like. Remember, we have a body, note what might not be seen or felt but is here. Let’s celebrate it.
Warmly, (Yes, the heat’s still working). I hope to see you soon.
Elana
P.S. Neruda’s poem ends with,
“Now I’ll count to twelve
And you keep quiet and I will go.