Stillness and Silence Part One: The Slingshot
There is a particular moment in time that happens every year—one I can see coming from miles away. Months away, to be more precise. A vision of this moment appears sometime in early September when it still feels like summer and life is smooth sailing. The sun is shining, the heat comes and goes, and the trees offer their first and faintest whispers of what is to come. As kids go back to school, I settle into the restored rhythm of my own classes, thoroughly enjoying the subtle transition from summer into fall.
But at some point all subtlety will disappear. Toward the end of each year time becomes a slingshot, and I look up from my yoga sequences, to-do lists and early thoughts of Christmas to see myself being launched forward at warp-speed, aiming directly for that doorway between worlds old and new: New Year’s Eve.
Then I blink.
Somewhere in the midst of navigating the holiday season, barreling toward a new year and descending into the cold depths of winter, I become fully aware of the fact that I’ve been going too hard for too long. The noise of life presents itself as a dull roar that never shuts off. This annual soundtrack is a mashup of constant movement, work commitments, longer to-do lists, time spent in the overstimulating clutches of the internet, resisting the urge to mainline sugar in all it’s amazing holiday forms, making time for friends and loved ones, and facing unexpected bursts of holiday grief over those who are gone. It’s an endless beat that leaves me feeling scattered and unable to focus at best. At worst, overworked and overwhelmed. Staying in this state for too long leads me to be less creative, less intuitive, impatient, angry, lost from myself. In short, I have less to offer the people and commitments in life that matter most. That is not who I am or how I want to be.
But warp-speed trips end sooner than later, don’t they?
It is the week between Christmas and New Year when the slingshot sails to a smooth stop. Christmas is over, but many around here are off until after the first. The pace of life slows considerably. Holiday sounds recede into the background and the last of the holiday cookies turn stale. The intensity of life softens as the last days of this year slip away. The moment arrives, and here we are on that threshold between old and new.
Now what?
The Gregorian calendar may just be a convenient way for us to segment our days, but it is useful to have a beginning and ending each year. And the older I get, the more I value the ability to pause and take stock as the year comes to a close. To clear the internal clutter, breathe deeply, regroup and reground myself. It is only from this place that it becomes possible to review the passing year with honesty, and look forward with clarity on the year ahead. And that is only made possible by purposely cultivating stillness and silence. Ceasing all movement and communication. Putting away all electronics. Not just black screen, but out of arms reach. Creating a physical environment that is quiet, comfortable and soothing—even if 20 minutes is all I can spare.
Stillness and silence hold hands like old friends, and each serves the other well. But practicing one does not guarantee the other—in fact it doesn’t guarantee either. Nonetheless, stillness is a good place to start. This might mean a comfortable seat by the fire, or a good view and a hot cup of tea. It might mean practicing restorative yoga, yin yoga or sitting for meditation. Being instead of doing. Can you think of the last time you embraced a lull in your day without turning to your phone or some other easy distraction? It can be incredibly hard to be still, but it’s a quality well worth cultivating.
When movement ceases, it becomes easier to focus on the present moment, which is the only place where we truly exist. The more fully present we are, the more we begin to notice what is true. It is easier to see the truth when we are not stuck in regrets of the past or worries of the future.
It can take the mind much longer to get on board with the idea of stillness, but we can encourage it in that direction through focus on the breath. Noticing this breath, then the next one, and the one after that. Making a point to be here for this inhale, and the exhale that follows. The best part is that we can use this awareness of breath to come back to this present moment countless times. After a while the body quiets, inviting stillness as the breath comes and goes.
It doesn’t take much effort to catch a ride on the slingshot. But it can take considerable effort to come to a full stop, something that is necessary from time to time in order to replenish the energy that life requires if we are to live well.
The real question to ask is, what do you miss out on if you never make space for stillness?
Personally, I don’t want life to go by in a blur. It is New Year’s Eve, the 2018 slingshot is done, and I am pausing long enough to cultivate stillness. Doing so renews my energy and encourages me to be my most authentic self. From this place I can look into the past with greater clarity, the present with a better grasp of what is true, and the future with a greater sense of vision and focus.
If you have your own way of practicing stillness, I’d like to hear about it. And if you have an end of the year/beginning of the year ritual for your health and wellbeing, I’d like to hear about that, too.
Stay tuned for part two! Until then, I wish you health, happiness and peace as you step across the threshold of a new year.
Bethanie