The following reflection originally appeared in the newsletter I sent out on January 19th, 2021.

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I once asked my teacher what I should do when everything quieted down and my mind became more still.  He looked at me a little funny and said, “why do you always need to do something?”

That response has stuck with me for many years now, especially living in a culture that’s consumed by busyness, where every message seems to tell me I should be “doing something” at all times.

To brush against this, I’ve lately enjoyed a particular way of spending my time: I sit on the couch and “do nothing.”  I’m not really meditating or reflecting, not really reading or watching anything.  I just look at the wall and let time pass.  In other words, I just be still.

This “activity” might sound absurd to a Western mind, but what I’m getting at is the virtue of stillness.

This virtue might start out in a physical way, like sitting on the couch doing nothing, sitting on the floor meditating, or lying down looking at the ceiling — literally making our body still.

However, true stillness has more to do with the mind. 

It involves not spinning endless stories, not indulging the constant impulses and feelings.  It means allowing our minds to slowly drop into a still space — quiet, calm, centered, and peaceful.  It’s similar to how a cup of sediment-filled water will have all the sediment flying around if you shake it, but if you just sit it down and let it be still, all the sediment falls to the bottom and what you can see is just clear, empty, spacious water.

This mental-emotional stillness is something I also love bringing into movement — just this weekend I went on a long nature walk where I set a committed intention to “still the mind.”  Of course, some mind chatter was still there, but that intention helped me to hear the river more clearly, feel my footsteps more fully, track my feeling states more continuously, and even when the cold wind tingled up my spine, I was a little more rooted in the subtle joy of being present.

Shortly, I’ll have a chance to spend three weeks by myself in a single room without light.  Most people I’ve shared this with think it’s a little crazy, but holding stillness as a virtue, I see it as a beautiful gift and opportunity!

In any case, I’d encourage you to reflect on your relationship with stillness, and maybe consider how those words from my teacher might apply to you,

“why do you always need to do something?”

 

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