Janell Loving
Recently, I have found myself wishing
daily that things around me would just be quiet and stand still long
enough for me to catch my breath, then simply be able to catch up. It
seems that life is in a perpetually chaotic state of activity, and
I am striving for some magic moment, where I catch it, and hold steady.
I have begun to realize in my
meditation practice that it isn't about having life stand still, but
rather about allowing myself to stand still. Is it possible to stand
still without turning to the cliché of our modern life – technology
devices, everyday stimulants/soothers, the involvement of others? All
of these things are relevant releases to keep us somewhat sane, and
provide calm by creating a synthetic blanket of security. I began to
wonder what it looks like when we create an individual stillness.
On the days when I am stressed, hectic,
harried and just not very zen, I have begun an experiment in the art
of standing still, and it is shaping up to look something like the
following:
I stop, sit down, lift my spine, drop
my shoulders and breathe in deeply. I picture myself in the midst of
a large Desert Willow tree ripe with blossoms. The branches
encapsulate me, and bees are buzzing everywhere. I continue to sit,
breathing in and out and lift my spine just a little more. Initially,
the stillness is a result of my fear of the bees, but then I realize
that they don't care about me, they are simply doing the things they
do, pollinating the flowers and buzzing around. As I move my spine
up further, I realize the pressures and chaos of the day are the same
as the bees – they are there because that is the structure of daily
life. It isn't really about me, it is about finding the absolute
resolve of what I am capable of accomplishing and making that the
result of the day. The pressures of the day, as the bees in the
Desert Willow become nothing more than passing forays of motion,
energy and light that propel me forward.
This practice is my own loose
interpretation of sitting zazen from the Zen Buddhist
tradition. By design the calmness that comes to me through this
practice allows me to see that the perception of stillness is within
my control. When I stand still, I am choosing to become present in the situation and each individual moment.
This summer and this year in general,
has been a particularly trying time for many of us, filled with
change and transition from many things – the economy, illness,
difficult relationships and overall lifecycle events. The practice of
being present and awake during each of these transitional moments
allows us to be cognizant of what we can actually manage, what our
limitations are, and how we can reach out for help and build the
difference in our life and our community. I hope this encourages you
to think about the art of standing still and create your own vision
of refuge in the eye of daily chaos. Standing still allows us to
create our own tranquility, nurture our spirit and mind and
understand that the whirling dervish of the day is nothing more than
dust particles in motion.
