Stillness

Of all of the practices that I have shared, probably the single most important one for renewing myself on all levels is getting still. I don't just mean ceasing doingness, because there can still be a lot of inner turmoil even when I sit to meditate or pray. Over the course of many years as a "spiritual seeker" I have tried many of the approaches for disengaging the mind, or "being the watcher." My conclusion is that while they all have their place, what has truly brought me to that still place is a combination of grace that tends to follow a surrendering or giving up on trying to will something into being different than it is, and an immersion into love.

The fallling into love, when it leaves me with a sense of both being permeated and permeating, also seems to be more of a yielding. It is not subject to a specific context and excludes nothing. There is a sense of opening my hands and releasing the reins of control, allowing movement to stop and an energy to wash over me that words can't really describe. It is that sense of Aaaaahhhhh on every level and expansion from the center place I could relate to my heart, but that fills a much bigger space than my body.

For me, the place that most readily evokes this stillness and expandedness is being in nature. When I am really present with the Earth it is hard not to be in awe. Grace seems to follow on the heels of an experience like this, which gives me pause. What words or arguements are there for an ancient being--an old growth redwood tree--that has witnessed a major part of human history?

I love the following quote, and if I were to imagine these sacred, ancient beings speaking it might be to say something like this, in the same tone that someone who loves me dearly might chidingly say.

"You're lost but you're making good time." ~ Casey Stengel