There’s something about stillness that gets me.
Yet, stillness doesn’t always look the same. It manifests itself differently.
It looks like driving down country roads with skies painted a celestial tone as a backdrop, hoping that view will linger a little longer.
It looks like monks pausing, gazing above and – collectively – silently offering their prayers.
It looks like quieting yourself long enough to listen to the waves sing their own song as they go back and forth, back and forth.
It looks like my church taking a minute to reflectively confess our sins together, then hearing the rector’s prayer and absolution over us.
It looks like a sense of self-awareness as you breath in and out, in and out. In – I am alive. Out – I am here. In – I am alive. Out – I am here. In – Ab. Out – Ba. In – Ab. Out – Ba. In – Abba. Out – I belong to you. In – Abba. Out – I belong to you. In – I am alive. Out – I am here.
It looks like taking the time to observe what you’d normally overlook: the person at the side of the street begging for money; the one sitting by themselves at the coffee shop with a frenzied look, gulping down their coffee …
It looks like realizing you are alive as you run yet another mile on the trail or on the treadmill.
What does it look like for you to practice stillness? What does stillness mean to you?