Teaching from the Natural World: Stillness
How many of us are experiencing the challenge of slowing down? Yes, here I am, another person encouraging this of you as you feel a roar of, “how is that even possible?” rise from your stomach to become steam out the crown of your head. I have an extremely difficult time slowing down, also. However, in my bit rushed morning walk to get my exercise in before work, I was granted a new perspective by the stillness of morning, cluttered between thoughts of “what do I need to do next.” I heard birds chirping in a nearby tree. I couldn’t see their bodies. It occurred to me… all the lively occurrences happening beyond my attention. Eventually, I just paused. I envisioned further how the birds must be inside the bush of the tree, having breakfast together and preparing for their travels. I thought of the tree itself—still—the intuitive irrigation that was going on inside its thick, rough torso. The wildflowers lining the road were photosynthesizing without telling anyone, without urgency, without doing anything more than being. Alike are our human vessels, oxygen circulating, nutrients navigating capillaries down to cells in our toes, unheard, unseen, unfelt.
So, what am I saying here, with regard to how productive we believe we must be every hour of every day, I understand it may be hard to invite or pursue the concept of pausing or being completely still. Might this feel more permissive—you’re always doing something! Even in stillness, you, your nervous system, your hormonal system, and your cellular repair are always diligently working. The ecosystems outside your window are sustaining and catalyzing existence without moving a leaf. What’s even more awe striking is that the natural world and our bodies conduct such magnificence without even thinking, or thinking about what more they could or should be doing! This is another ailment, the challenge of being immersed in the present state of being or doing because of riveting preoccupation with the next task or achievement.
Not only has this morning walk offered a shift in permissiveness to be especially still, to hold gratitude and space for the immaculate operations of my own human species, but even when actively completing a task, I allow myself to recognize one task at a time as being enough. Did you feel that? The drift of all else elsewhere. If so, right now, that’s because reading this is all you are doing. Still. Attentive. Productive. Tonight, you might enjoy dinner and not think about what tomorrow’s meal will hold. And tomorrow, you might write a proposal with great ease because you trust that you will get to the emails afterward. In the end, you can still thank yourself for completing one thin,g all the while your heart was beating! Really, to gratify our resistance to doing nothing, that’s two grand things!
So dear reader, can you step toward stillness today? Or tomorrow, or this weekend? Is there a time that you can allow your full immersion into one accomplishment while you plant your feet and breathe in one place? Can you give yourself permission for your other worldly processes to be enough? Can you, for a mere sip of air, let the being be the doing?
You have my hope.