Day 66
stillness
Here’s the thing: when we “escape” into nature, we find more life. Life is everywhere, from the limit of our vision as we gaze into the sky, to the depths of the ocean and soil where we have yet to travel. We are surrounded by life and there is no escape. Every year, we become more aware of how our lives are intertwined with this natural world. We learn that our bodies are full of microbial life, that our dirt is full of life-giving fungus; that there are networks that connect all living things and we are part of those networks, whether we understand them or not. Stillness has explained this to me in a language that my body and my imagination and my intuition speak fluently. Science is explaining it too, but we do not really need science to comprehend these connections. We just need time, and a moment of seeing and listening to what is going on around and amidst our human words and bodies.
Stillness is teaching me that we do not need to wait for science to explain to us that we are part-of—not in-charge-of, not at-the-mercy-of, not the-beneficiaries-of—a vast cosmic, life-giving, reality. We know this already when we sit in the stillness and discover that what feels calm and void of activity to our over-activated minds and bodies, is in fact full of activity.
Surrounded by this activity, what I actually experience is a stillness within. As if I become the pond whose surface is finally undisturbed. Underneath, the tadpoles and nymphs of my sub-conscious may be churning, and all around me there may be other forms of life doing their thing, but my mind becomes clear and still, my body stills, my heart slows, my breath settles. Perhaps there is a moment where my stillness and a stillness around me converge, particularly in the winter when almost all mountain-life is dormant. From that stillness, I feel the tendrils of connection to my children, who are 2000 miles away, to my ancestors, and through memory and stories, to places I may have visited once or never at all.
